Flashlight
by l03l
Summary: Eight years later Richard Castle is found, and it's no longer his ring on her finger. AU from 6x23 "For Better Or Worse".
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**Kate**

* * *

"It's the moments that save my life nobody knows about, like flashlights

There's just enough hope when it shines to go one scared step at a time

When the world's too dark I find your flashlight."

\- Flashlight, Hunter Hayes.

* * *

The bell above the door jingles, a gust of cold air bursting through the café, all the way to the back wall where she sits. Her gaze drops from the door when she realises that it's not who she's waiting for, and she takes a deep breath.

_It has only been ten minutes. _

She's nervous enough as it is, but the flicker of anxiety that flares whenever someone is running late only makes the churning in her stomach worse.

She circles the band on her finger in a continuing attempt to grow accustomed to the feeling, the ring heavy and unfamiliar.

She's almost tempted to conceal it, to twist the band so that the diamond presses into her palm, but she resists, knowing she can't hide it forever. With the modest stone glinting in the light, she knows it won't go unnoticed for long. She lifts her gaze from the ring at the sound of the door, her fingers still toying with it mindlessly when she sees Alexis, waving at her with a wide smile.

She grins instantly, stunned by just how much older Alexis looks when it has only been six months. Then again, maybe it's the way she's pushing the stroller across the café with such a practised hand, appearing as if she's been doing it for years, not ten weeks.

Kate swallows, fighting back inexplicable tears that threaten to cloud her vision at the slightest glimpse of the child, grateful that she has a few moments to pull herself together before Alexis reaches the table.

"Hey," she says, embracing Alexis and kissing her cheek before looking to the baby, who sleeps soundly beside a stuffed frog.

"Sorry I'm late," Alexis says, rolling her eyes as she takes a seat. "I underestimated the time it would take to get here."

Kate grins, finding her nerves fade instantly, and she sits back down, teasing.

"Forgetting what the city is like?"

Alexis ignores her playful barb, pulling off her coat. "Elliot wanted to come, but he got roped into some conference call. It's our first day of vacation, but apparently they can't live without him, so you've just got me and Sammy."

"Sammy…"

Her eyes flit to the stroller beside the table, the child oblivious to the world and so content in his sleep, his dark hair sticking up in tufts.

"He's beautiful, Alexis," she says sincerely, caught off guard by the visions that play through her mind unwarranted, the fantasies that she let go of years ago, when she was forced to let go of him. The ones that detailed a future with kids of her own.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get across to see him when he was born."

She wonders if Alexis can hear that her tone is too purposeful, the lie inherent in the sincerity of the apology. It's grating to her own ears, but she hopes it isn't too noticeable.

She could have made it happen. She had a ticket booked and everything, but they caught a high profile case, and even though the boys were willing to cover for her, she was selfish and she took the easy way out.

Eight years later and it was too much, too hard to witness such a momentous event without him. _Eight years_, and she was unable to put her own grief aside and support the only person who kept her going, the one person who showed her how to have the strength to stay standing in the wake of such tragedy.

"It's okay," Alexis smiles, easy to forgive, as always. "We were already coming out here, so you were going to see him anyway."

"Yeah," she hums, somehow unable to take her eyes off the child, caught off guard by how much he looks like his grandfather. The unruly hair that sticks out defiantly, the shape of his face …

"Kate!"

Alexis is shrieking excitedly, and Kate is snapped from her reverie as she feels her hand tugged across the table.

"Tim proposed?!"

She had forgotten, distracted by Sammy and the sight of Alexis as a mother, and it takes her a moment to catch up. Alexis is staring at the ring, so enthusiastic, and Kate wonders if it's a bad sign that Alexis seems more excited than she is.

"Yeah," she confirms, pressing her lips together at the memory of the proposal.

He had been so considerate, so unbelievably _Tim_, taking her hand across the dinner table and asking if she'd be willing to marry him. He'd been simultaneously hesitant and confident; explaining that he wanted to face the world with her by his side, but he'd known it was a risk.

He'd known that she never planned to marry, didn't believe in the fairy tale anymore, but he had that look in his eyes, that same look he had when he first asked her out, having to clarify that it was a date. They'd been friends for a year, and he'd taken her hand and promised not to push her, vowing that he wasn't going to be scared away by the fact that she was more than a little broken. He had promised to put her back together, and even though she still has jagged edges, he's done a pretty good job. So she said yes to his proposal, just had she had the date, finding that even though the word escaped without permission, it was something she wanted – someone by her side.

"We're going to do the city hall thing," she tells Alexis. "I'm not sure when, but I'd… I'd love for you to be there."

Her heart is beating wildly in her chest as she waits for a response, but she isn't caught off guard by the intense need to have Alexis there. She knows that it's a strange relationship, one some fail to understand, but Alexis had been the one to pull her out of her grief, to show her that it was okay to let him go, and from the shared trauma formed a bond that won't break.

Once upon a time, Rick made her promise to look out for his daughter if anything happened to him, and at the time she never even considered the possibility that she would be the one needing Alexis.

"I wouldn't miss it," Alexis promises, a smile on her face. "I can't believe you didn't tell me!"

There's nothing but pure joy on her face, and Kate's cheeks darken with shame as she confesses.

"I wasn't sure how you'd take it," she admits. "I mean-"

"You should be happy, Kate," Alexis interrupts, knowing exactly where this is going and reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "He makes you happy, I've seen it. You should have that," she says firmly, knowing that she has to be clear.

"I still miss him," Kate confesses, feeling the grief sneak up on her unexpectedly. "My heart is still his, and he's never coming back."

The tears she managed to restrain at the sight of the grandchild he'll never meet come flooding down her cheeks, and she looks to the window, embarrassed.

"Tim's in there, too, I know he is," Alexis says, coaxing her gaze back with her kind tone, and Kate snorts. He is, the bastard. He wormed his way into her heart when she wasn't looking, and now she wants to marry him.

How did that happen?

"He's a good guy," Alexis adds, and Kate exhales slowly, feeling the lingering doubts slip away. She hadn't realised that Alexis' approval was weighing on her so heavily.

"He is."

She's managed to find possibly the only man in the world who is okay with the fact that the one person she needs at their wedding is her late fiancé's daughter. A man who knows her heart will never belong entirely to him. There's no doubting his character.

Sammy wakes with a soft cry and Alexis reaches for him, as Kate tries to hide her reaction to the sight of the two-month-old's brilliant blue eyes.

"You want to hold him?" Alexis asks, not missing the look on her face, and Kate wants to decline, has the words on the tip of her tongue, but her hands are extending before her brain has a say in the matter.

"Hey, Sam," she whispers, the baby blinking up at her, and she smiles at Alexis, floored by the young woman.

"I don't know how you do it," she confesses in a small whisper. "It's like looking right at him."

She doesn't say that he looks just like the babies she envisioned she'd have when they were a part of her plan. The blue eyes, the dark hair like their father.

"Genetics," Alexis shrugs. "It's a funny thing. He got Elliot's floppy ears," she chuckles. "And his eyes, they're so serious, so-"

"Like yours," Kate finishes. "I'm so proud of you," she murmurs, unsure if it's really her place, but unable to supress the pride that swells in her chest, needing to be voiced. "I wish he'd have been here to see this."

"You are," Alexis says, smiling, as if it's enough.

* * *

She comes home to find Tim in the kitchen making some sort of stir-fry, and she smiles at him when he gives her a hesitant look.

"Everything go okay with Alexis?"

She nods slightly, coming up behind him to hug him, resting her head on his shoulders.

He hates cooking, and more often than not they'll order in, but she knows he's trying to cheer her up – a kind of preventative measure – and she loves him for it.

"She's happy for us," she reports, still a little in awe of the young woman.

He twists in her arms, an easy smile on his face.

"I told you you had nothing to worry about."

She can't reciprocate the smile, and he catches it instantly.

"If you're not sure-"

"No," she smiles, trying her best. She can't tell him that the sight of Alexis with her son, a baby that so closely resembles the children she imagined she'd have threw her off balance. She can't explain to him the conversations they used to have about the future, about not waiting to have children because they didn't want to be having kids when Alexis did.

"I want to marry you," she says, the truth of the statement undeniable.

She always thought that she'd get married once, and that would be it. She was never one to commit to something unless she was certain, and she had faith that she'd never settle for less than the fairy tale.

The mess surrounding her wedding to Castle proved her wrong, though, and then she was convinced that it didn't matter. She didn't care that he wasn't her first husband, because he was all that she'd ever dreamed of, a love she had doubted she'd ever find, and that was more than enough. She was going to marry Richard Castle, and spend the rest of her life with him, and nothing else mattered.

When she lost him, when he'd disappeared without a trace and she was forced to give up all hope of finding him, she was sure she'd never marry.

But Tim…

She loves him.

Not in the all-consuming way she loves – loved – Castle, but she does.

He's someone she's content to come home to every day, someone who loves her, too.

He's taught her that maybe that's enough.

* * *

Work is brutal.

The case they thought they'd closed the day before yesterday is reopened when a second victim is found while their suspect is in custody. At the prospect of being charged with another murder, his alibi comes out, and they're turning him over to narcotics and they're back to square one, now with two victims. To top it all off, the feds are circling, deeming their case serial due to the two victims having no connection apart from their striking physical similarities.

She curses under her breath as she reworks the murder board, realising that any hope she had of spending time with Alexis while she's in town is diminishing by the second.

But then the feds are moving, a flurry of suits and impatience, Esposito and Ryan bringing up the rear and she's following unquestioningly.

She's briefed on the way, about security cam footage picking up the same guy tailing both of the victims on crowded streets, and when they get to his apartment he has a third woman tied to a chair, a knife pressed to her neck.

He's no match for the handful of feds and team of cops that crowd the room, and she knows that the case is done. He's a mess, an amateur who slipped up, and at this point the interrogation is a mere formality. She lets the fed – Murray – take the lead, running through a textbook interrogation as Stuart Delart exercises his right to remain silent. They don't need a confession, the evidence stacked against him is more than enough to make a case, but she'd like the satisfaction of knowing that it's over, that no other surprises are going to bit them in the ass. There's an air of confidence about him that wasn't present in the shaking, mess of a man they arrested, and it makes her gut twist in quiet dread. She knows he has a plan, some way to turn the tables, but she can't fathom how it's going to get him out of this.

Then he opens his mouth, and everything changes.

"If you want to know where to find Richard Castle, you'll let me go."

* * *

**A/N:**

**This is my first multi-chapter Castle fic. *Deep breath*.**

**Updates should be weekly :)**

**Tumblr: l03l**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Kate**

* * *

"_If you want to know where to find Richard Castle, you'll let me go."_

* * *

She feels it acutely, the moment her whole world shifts.

Her perception skews instantly, and she struggles not to show it. She doesn't want to give this asshole the satisfaction of a reaction, of knowing that he's knocked her off balance, but her veins are ice cold and she can't _breathe_.

It might have been eight years, but it was a well-publicised tragedy.

The disappearance and assumed death of famous mystery novelist Richard Castle on the day he was set to wed his muse, NYPD detective Katherine Beckett. No one could keep it out of the papers.

He's bluffing.

He has to be.

She repeats it like a mantra three times before opening her mouth to respond, but either she isn't hiding her reaction as well as she thought, or Esposito is afraid that she's going to say something stupid, because he's in the room and grabbing her by the shoulders before she can speak.

She's dragged out the door like an invalid, or maybe her legs just aren't working properly, and Espo is taking her place beside Murray while Ryan holds a hand to the centre of her back, keeping her upright.

"Ryan-" she begins, not nearly as angry as she wants to sound. Instead, her voice comes out weak and desperate, entirely unrecognisable, and she clears her throat in an attempt to gain some control of it.

"It's gunna be okay," he says, and she rolls her eyes at the useless platitude she must have heard a million times in the wake of Castle's disappearance.

She moves to her desk in defiance, leaving Ryan to return to observation because she's clearly not wanted. Instead, she stares at the murder board, at the victims and Stuart Delart, trying to decipher how it could possibly connect to his disappearance. She's still failing to draw any rational conclusions when Ryan and Espo return, Murray by their side.

"He says that if we let him go, if we drop all charges for the murders, he'll lead us to Castle."

She doesn't understand.

"Why… Why now?" She wonders. "What's going on?"

She doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to give hope a place in her heart only to be disappointed – again – but she sees the look in their eyes.

They're tempted, too.

One glance at Murray tells her that it's irrelevant. The feds don't want to let their serial killer walk on the small chance that he has information on an eight year old cold case, and she feels it building, the anxiety that she has spent years trying to eradicate.

"I can't do this."

She leaves the precinct without another word, her head spinning too fast to keep up with.

It can't be true.

It has been eight _years_.

He can't be alive.

What if she gave up on him and he's alive?

* * *

She struggles with it more than she should, but she ultimately finds herself in Dr Burke's waiting room instead of at a liquor store, and she's proud of the decision.

She's spiralling; the guilt is compounding quickly, and there's a fist around her heart that makes it impossible to breathe. She can barely get a thought straight in her head, and her confusion fuels frustration, because she has spent years in this office trying to heal, and at the slightest glimpse of a lead she's falling.

Is he really alive? Has he been alive this whole time, right under her nose and she hasn't found him?

Burke sees her almost immediately, and from the state she was in when she greeted his receptionist, she's not surprised. That, and the fact that she will probably single-handedly pay for his retirement with the amount of time she's spent in his office would have guaranteed her the last minute appointment.

She spends three hours in the room, trying to make sense of the mixture of grief and guilt swirling through her veins, and when she emerges from the building, she can breathe, but she's just as uncertain as before.

What she needs is the truth from Stuart Delart, now that she can at least think straight.

She turns on her phone as she's hailing a cab, surprised to find missed calls from Alexis. While she was expecting the update from the precinct, she wasn't expecting anything from Alexis, least of all eleven missed calls with accompanying voicemails and a handful of text messages begging for a response.

She calls her rather than listen to the voicemails, and despite that wretched hope that is making her heart race; she is in no way prepared for the conversation.

_Kate?_

_Where are you? _

_Esposito called; said they have dad at New York Pres. _

_What is going on?_

_I'm headed there now, where are you?_

Holy _shit_.

* * *

She's barely walking in a straight line when she enters the hospital, the mess that is her head apparently compromising her motor function.

She's thankful that Ryan is waiting for her in the lobby, with a hand to guide her to the elevator and some sort of explanation.

"He's on three. He's… He's alive."

He's _alive_.

She barely hears the rest of what he has to say; beyond he's alive and that they were able to strike a deal with Delart, and oh God he's _alive_.

Elliot is standing in the corridor with Sammy in his arms, and she moves to him blindly, barely aware of Ryan at her back.

"Alexis is with him," Elliot states, his eyes grave. "She said to send you in."

She blinks, inexplicably hesitant. She looks back to Ryan, desperate for some kind of reassurance, but he just stares back at her, giving nothing away as to Castle's condition.

It's not as if she can turn away now.

She reaches for the door handle, trembling, and she takes a breath, steels herself.

_It isn't difficult, Kate _her psyche mocks, and she forces her way through the motions, pushing the door open and moving forward, completely unprepared for the sight of him.

"Rick."

His name escapes in a breathless whisper, and she blinks repeatedly, still uncertain that this is real.

He's small, so small in the hospital bed, his eyes lacking any kind of recognisable spark and his skin so pale, tubes and wires crowding his body.

She never thought she'd see him again.

She squeezes her eyes shut so hard it hurts and then opens them slowly, still doubting what she's seeing and completely confused as to how this happened.

He's holding his hand out to her, and she shuffles closer, because she can give him that much, clasping his hand in hers and pressing her lips together at the sight of the crisp white bandages circling his wrists.

"Castle."

He smiles at her, a small stretch of his lips that is different from the smirk she remembers, and she tries her best to return the gesture, failing miserably.

"Don't cry," he says, his voice scratchy, and she touches her cheeks to find them wet with tears.

"Alexis is married," he says, confusion painted all over his face, and she chokes out a laugh.

"She is."

It's then that he traces the ring on her finger, frowning as he realises that it isn't the one he gave her.

"So are you."

* * *

"No," she's quick to disagree, but the promise inherent in the ring remains a chasm between them. He's waiting for her to elaborate, quiet disbelief in his eyes. She knows that it will only get worse once she explains that it's another man's ring she wears now, and for that reason, she can't force the words from her mouth.

"She's engaged," Alexis supplies softly, after a few too many minutes of uncomfortable silence, and Castle blinks once, as if trying to comprehend the news, before his eyes glaze over and he squeezes them shut.

"Engaged."

His voice is a broken whisper, and she hates herself for doing this to him when he already looks so broken.

"It's been eight years, dad," Alexis says quietly.

"I don't understand," he croaks mournfully, and her heart breaks at the sight of him, the anguish visible in every tensed muscle, the tears leaking from his closed eyes.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, knowing it will never be enough.

* * *

They're asked to leave the room when the on-call psychiatrist comes in to speak to him, and she hovers in the hallway, unwilling to take her eyes off him.

Alexis asks Elliot to take Sammy back to the hotel while Ryan stands nearby, clearly waiting to give her the answers she needs, the explanation she couldn't process before.

He starts from the beginning, his voice informative and familiar. She's not sure what Alexis knows, not sure if she's already heard it, but she clutches her hand for support, desperate for something tangible to anchor her to reality.

The feds managed to negotiate with Delart, who was in over his head, even with the power he held with his knowledge of Castle's case. The deal was immunity for the two murders, provided that his information led to finding Castle. His agreement left him open to be charged with the kidnapping and attempted murder of the third victim, as well as any charges in relation to his involvement in Castle's disappearance, which they are now trying to prove.

When he says that they found Castle in a basement apartment in the city, her heart clenches and she tightens her hold on Alexis.

The moment they kicked the door down it went south.

The place was owned by Lydia Livingston, who they found in the bedroom with a scalpel to her neck, ranting manically about her husband. It wasn't until after she drew the knife across her throat in a motion so quick they could do nothing to prevent it that they realised she was talking about Castle.

She struggles to comprehend it all, even after it was explained so clearly, but she doesn't miss the abrupt end to the retelling.

"Where was he?" She presses out, seeing the reluctance in Ryan's eyes.

"He was there. He tried to stop her. He was…" He swallows visibly, his gaze flitting from her to Alexis. "Inconsolable."

The length of his absence hits that much harder, and she tries to ignore the possible reasons for his reaction, but they flit through her brain unwanted.

"He was calm when I saw him," Alexis murmurs, and Kate can see the same scenarios playing through her mind too.

Ryan has no explanation for it, and for the first time, she sees the haunted look in his eyes.

"He's been seen by a doctor," she confirms, turning to Alexis, who nods.

"They said that he's okay. He was restrained," she pauses, taking a breath. "His feet. He'll need physical therapy to walk properly again. His hands aren't as bad. They think that he became compliant or that he was drugged, because he has more mobility than they expected."

Alexis is speaking purposefully, trying her best to hold it together, and she isn't doing much better. The thought of him being held against his will, being restrained for eight years is too much, and she's thankful she didn't see it because she's not sure she could have stomached the image.

But the possibility that he became compliant, that she didn't need to restrain him to keep him there…

"I thought he was dead," Ryan blurts, and she realises that she's not the only one blaming herself.

"We all did," she responds, dividing the culpability.

Her reassurance does little to assuage the guilt in Ryan's eyes, but there's no rationalising it now. They all assumed he was dead because they found no evidence to the contrary, and he was being held in New York the entire time.

How did they not find him sooner?

"I need to get back to the precinct," Ryan says, departing with a tight hug for each of them, and she glances from the sign prohibiting cell phones to the now closed elevator doors.

"I need to call Tim," she says, needing the accountability from Alexis; because the reluctance she feels is paralysing.

But she can't fathom letting Castle out of her sight, not now, so she needs to let Tim know she may be home late. Somehow she has to explain to him what she can barely comprehend herself.

He's alive.

She finds her way to the entrance of the building, pulling her phone from her pocket as she steps outside. She waits for the call to go to voicemail, knowing that he won't answer, because he's still at work.

She's a coward.

She'd rather leave a message than wait a couple of hours and talk to him then, or call the office and get them to put her through to him, because she's confused enough without having to process his response. She knows he'll be nothing but understanding, but his compassionate nature is too much to handle when she's so utterly undeserving.

She leaves a rambling message she hopes makes some kind of sense, and retraces her path back to Castle's room. Alexis is no longer waiting outside, and a glance through the small window in the door tells her that he is finished with the psychiatrist, so she slips back into the room.

There's a nurse helping him into a wheelchair, and panic floods her system before logic can put a stop to it.

"Where's he going?" She demands, turning to Alexis.

"He needs x-rays," the nurse says, "we need to make sure that the breaks healed properly."

She blanches at the image that the explanation incites, glancing at Caste in concern, her heart plummeting when she sees the look on his face.

She's not welcome.

He doesn't say the words aloud, doesn't say anything at all, but she knows him. Even after all these years, all it takes is one glance for her to get the message.

He wants her to leave.

They wheel him away without another word, and her eyes drop, shame colouring her cheeks.

No part of her wants to go.

Seeing with her own eyes that he's really alive is the only thing keeping her from falling apart entirely, and she doesn't want to give it up, doesn't want to go back to the life she led yesterday where his death was the only logical explanation for his absence.

But she can give him this.

She's never seen him so hurt, so broken. He's barely recognisable through the mask of anguish that she has only exacerbated, and the least she can do is grant him the only thing he's asked for.

Her legs won't move, though, and she wrenches her gaze from her uncooperative limbs to Alexis, who is looking at her with such sympathy that she almost buckles.

"I should go," she says, her voice lacking any trace of conviction.

"Kate…" Alexis sighs, knowing that it's the truth, but also understanding her need to stay.

"He'll understand, eventually. He'll forgive you."

"I don't deserve his forgiveness," she whispers, resigned to the fact.

Alexis goes to disagree, but she shakes her head.

"He would have waited for me. He would have done everything in his power to find me, but I gave up." She blinks in a futile attempt to restrain tears. "I gave up, and I moved on, and I shouldn't be forgiven."

"Kate, you were drowning."

Alexis tries valiantly to make her remember the past, but she needs no reminders.

She gave up.

The love of her life disappeared, leaving no physical evidence of his death, and she _gave up_.

She listened to everyone who told her that there was no indication that he was alive, no evidence that someone took him, that the only logical explanation was his death, and she gave up.

He taught her countless times to believe in the impossible, and when it mattered most, she failed him.

"What has he endured because I stopped looking for him?" She asks, hurt seeping into her words and making her voice unbearably loud, so she closes her mouth, forcing her legs into motion.

"I'm going to go to the precinct, see if they need any help," she mumbles, desperate to be doing something useful. She's halfway out the door when she hears Alexis' response, soft and broken.

"I made you stop."

Guilt is all she hears, flooding the words, and Kate shakes her head, the memory of that day too vivid.

She _was_ drowning.

She was so far down the rabbit hole she couldn't even see anything else, and she was being reckless, stupid, too desperate for answers to care about anything else, least of all her own life. Alexis was the one to pull her out, to force her to recognise what she had left in the wake of such disaster and focus on it instead.

"You saved my life," she says, needing to emphasis it to Alexis, desperate to make sure that she knows that she is completely blameless. "I'd have let it kill me, but you… You showed me that it was possible to survive."

Alexis is in her arms before she can blink, and she wraps her arms around the woman whose strength is the only reason she's still standing.

Alexis may have been the one to convince her to focus less on the case that was driving her into the ground and more on surviving, but she didn't make her move on entirely.

She was the one who gave up all hope of ever finding him and sought comfort in someone else, and that is no one's fault but her own.

* * *

She's useless at the precinct.

Stuart Delart is in holding, and when the boys divulge what the feds got out of him, the urge to burst in and kill the man is overwhelming.

_Siblings_.

This guy ran Castle off the road, aided his sister in a kidnapping, because he was convinced it would be the only thing that could make her happy. Suffering from what was evidently severe psychosis, Lydia Livingston believed Castle to be her late husband, and her brother helped her realise the delusion, keeping silent about it until the knowledge became bargaining power.

She's still trying to digest the information when Espo speaks softly.

"Gates wants you at home. She got wrangled into dealing with the press, but she doesn't want you anywhere near this."

"I'll give you a ride," Ryan says, leaving no room for disagreement in his tone, and she nods wordlessly, letting him guide her to the elevator as she wonders exactly where she can go.

She's not wanted at work, she's not wanted at Castle's bedside, and she's not sure she can face Tim, who knows he could never compare to the man whose ring she wears around her neck.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Wow. Truly, thank you. **

**I've never received such a response for a story, ever. **

**The support and encouragement just blew me away; I can't thank you guys enough. I hope this lives up to your expectations.**

**Also, a huge thank you to the talented _Lord of Kavaka_ for the beautiful cover art. **

**tumblr: l03l**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**Kate**

* * *

By the time she gets home Tim is already there, and she can tell by the mix of confusion and disbelief on his face that he got her message.

"Is it true?" He asks, astounded, and when she nods dumbly, he closes the distance between them, his arms circling her loosely because he knows she doesn't like to feel trapped in an embrace. That he knows her so well only worsens the clenching of her heart, and she pulls away, exhaling softly.

"Wow," he breathes, shock evident in his wide eyes. The emotions that have been too weighed down by guilt for her to give any consideration flit across his face – the disbelief, the bewilderment.

"Do you want to go back to the hospital?" He inquires, and she can hear in the sincerity of his tone that he's willing to take her, that he's willing to do anything to make this easier for her, and she shakes her head wordlessly.

She wonders if the guilt seeping through her soul would be less overwhelming if Tim were a less understanding man. If he put his own feelings before hers, if he were unable to comprehend that her heart still beats for Richard Castle.

Maybe then she could look him in the eye.

She doesn't tell him that Castle doesn't want her there, that she spent less than ten minutes with him and she's already hurt him more.

She can't bring herself to give voice to the memory, to admit aloud to causing him such pain.

"I'm going to call Alexis," she says instead, and Tim nods, squeezing her hand before returning to the study and letting her make the call without an audience.

It goes to voicemail, but Alexis calls her back moments later.

"The doctor says he can go home the day after tomorrow."

She can hear Alexis' anxiety in the nature of the greeting – or lack thereof – but she's too distracted by the news to give it proper consideration.

The day after tomorrow…

"So he's…"

She wants to say _okay _but after eight years being held captive, she wonders if he'll ever be okay again.

"He has to see a psychiatrist and a physical therapist, but they say he should be okay to go home."

"Alexis…"

It hits her suddenly, and she wonders how she spent so long marvelling over the fact that he is healthy enough to leave so soon, when the place he considered home no longer exists.

"Yeah," Alexis exhales, and Kate can tell from the hesitance in the syllable alone that she hasn't been able to tell him about his mother, about the other aspect to the reality he now faces.

"I'm thinking of renting a place in New York, moving back-"

"You can't do that," Kate interrupts softly, and Alexis knows it too. She has a husband, a child in San Francisco, and she can't just leave them. She can't take Sammy from his father, can't ask Elliot to quit his job, the one he spent years working for.

"We'll talk to him about it," Kate says finally, wondering whether she has any right to include herself in this as her fingers slip subconsciously to the chain around her neck.

"We'll figure it out," Alexis confirms with a broken sigh.

"He looks so different," she whispers, her breath catching. "I spent all afternoon just watching him sleep, and half the time I couldn't believe it was really him."

She squeezes her eyes shut, wishing she could be there to validate the memory she has of him in that hospital bed. It still feels like a fantasy, that he's alive, that he's back, until she remembers his reaction, that look on his face at the mere sight of her.

"Are _you_ okay?" Alexis whispers, and not for the first time, she wonders how Alexis learned to read her so well.

"Kate?"

She's been quiet for too long, but she doesn't trust herself to speak, not with the multitude of emotions clouding her judgement. She can hear the concern in Alexis' voice, and she doesn't want to exacerbate it.

"I saw Dr Burke," she says steadily, knowing that it will ease Alexis' mind, especially if she doesn't mention that the appointment was before they met at the hospital.

"That's good," Alexis says, quietly encouraging.

Alexis worries about her mental health.

Ever since _that day_, when Alexis found her contemplating the poetry of being reunited in death and stroking the angry red line marring her neck.

Sometimes she can still feel the pull of the wire.

Still see the look in Jerry Tyson's eyes, that maniacal grin while he tightened his grip, his hold just loose enough for her to rasp out the words, to beg him to pull just a little tighter, to put her out of her misery.

On her worst days she can still feel the echoes of disappointment at his pulling away, repeating that he knew nothing of Castle's whereabouts, and adding that he'd truly enjoy watching her suffer with the lack of answers. That he wouldn't give her the pleasure of possibly being reunited with him in death.

Jerry Tyson had nothing to do with Castle's disappearance, and to make matters worse; she let him slip though her fingers.

Alexis came by to check on her following the suspension, the reprimand, the demotion. To see how she was fairing after being deemed reckless and forced into answering to someone she had spent almost ten years supervising.

Her father was a hypocrite, dispensing advice he was never able to follow, and her friends had no fucking idea. They'd given up and were happy in their ignorance, even though there was _no joy left_.

But Alexis… There was no pity, just empathy and a non-hypocritical example to follow. Proof not only that it was possible to survive, but also a reason to.

"_I don't want to lose you, too."_

She sounded so young, and coupled with the implication that she was someone for Alexis to lose … it was too much to ignore.

For the first time she saw that she was being selfish in her grief, in her quest for answers, and she reached for the hand offering to pull her to dry land.

After that day, Alexis has gone out of her way to ensure that she never gets that close again.

For that reason, she can't ignore Alexis' concern now.

Years ago that concern saved her life.

So she forces a smile to her face, hopes Alexis can hear it in her voice. She doesn't need another thing to be worried about.

"I'm fine. I promise," she vows. "You?"

It's reminiscent of the check system they relied on years ago, where she would look out for Alexis and vice versa, and the familiarity alone is a comfort, even if it feels like regression.

"Yeah, I just…"

She waits patiently on the other end of the line, until the silence prompts Alexis to continue.

"He received medical care. He broke his ankle, years ago, and they said it was treated, and I don't…"

She hears the disbelief in the words, the desperation for answers that only Castle can give, and she grapples for an explanation.

"She was a nurse," she responds suddenly, remembering the glimpse of the file she caught at the precinct before the boys removed it from her eye-line. "She used to be a nurse."

Alexis inhales audibly, and in the shaky breath she hears just how much Alexis needs someone there. Her heart clenches painfully because it can't be her, but there is another way to ensure that Alexis isn't alone.

"Get Elliot to bring Sammy over," she says, the offer more a quiet command.

She can't be there, but Elliot can.

* * *

Within half an hour Elliot is at her door with Sammy in his arms and an abundance of _stuff_. She's reminded instantly of the only other prolonged interaction she ever had with a baby, and the way Castle went out and bought similar amounts of evidently necessary baby paraphernalia. The clarity of the memory throws her, but she forces it to the recesses of her mind, reaching for Sammy and assuring Elliot somewhat confidently that she has everything under control.

Tim has about as much experience with babies as she does, but he's by her side, taking the bags and questioning Elliot about feeding and sleep schedules with a diligence that puts Elliot at ease. She rubs a hand at the small of his back in silent thanks as she reminds Elliot to look out for Alexis. She knows that Alexis will be taking care of her father, and that someone needs to be taking care of Alexis, and Elliot nods in quiet understanding.

"We can drop by and pick up Sammy on our way back to the hotel," he says, and she smiles at him.

"It's okay if you don't."

She doesn't know the hospital's policy on overnight guests, but they both know Alexis will fight it if she wants to stay.

"If you manage to convince her to leave, just take her back to the hotel, she needs the rest. I've got him."

Elliot smiles appreciatively, and she shrugs off his gratitude.

She's the one that's grateful, because Alexis needs somebody, and she hates that it can't be her.

* * *

Tim helps her with the feedings and the diaper changes, and when she finally has Sammy sleeping soundly against her chest, he cleans up the incredible mess they've made without a complaint.

There is no way she ever did anything to deserve him.

He's watching her with a wistfulness she's never seen before, and when she raises an eyebrow, questioning him on it, his eyes drift to Sammy.

"You're a natural, Kate," he says, and she wonders if he knows, if he's known all along why she doesn't want to have children, why she doesn't care that it's possibly too late for her anyway.

"I'll be in in a minute," she murmurs, and Tim chuckles in amused disbelief as he moves towards the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Kate."

* * *

When she's finally willing to put him down, Sammy settles into his portable crib with ease, and she glances at Tim, hoping she hasn't kept him up.

He's staring up at the ceiling, and she recognises the look on his face, the one he gets when he's thinking something over, but for the first time today, she sees uncertainty in his eyes, illuminated by the darkness.

Beyond the unwavering support he has shown, he's unsure, and she doesn't know how to reassure him.

Castle's alive.

They've haven't spoken of the possible ramifications, but she's never hidden the hold he has on her heart. Never wanted to, never been able, and Tim always understood. He chose her with eyes wide open, but the fact that Castle's alive must make him uneasy.

She knows he won't raise it now. He knows that she's overwhelmed enough, and he won't add to that with his own questions, he won't burden her with the fact that he's feeling unsure about where they stand.

When she risks another glance at him, he smiles at her with no trace of anything other than support.

* * *

She wakes at six thirty, acutely aware of the fact that she's had more sleep than she should have on Sammy's schedule, and that he's not crying.

She finds Tim in the living room, Sammy settled in the crook of his arm drinking greedily from a bottle, and she holds her arms out to take over, knowing that Tim is usually dressed for work by six thirty. Sammy doesn't even stir when Tim transfers him to her arms, and he moves to the bedroom quickly.

"You going in today?"

"Not allowed," she rolls her eyes, calling back to him. "I'll give Elliot a call, see if they want me to keep Sammy."

He hums, and she hears him turn on the shower as Sammy finishes feeding.

She cradles him close, entranced by those familiar blue eyes.

"I bet he can't wait to meet you," she murmurs.

She smirks when she grabs her phone from the nightstand, seeing a message from Alexis saying just that – Alexis wants her to bring Sammy to the hospital so that he can meet his grandfather.

She's silently grateful for the excuse to see him, the chance to satisfy the desperate need to confirm for herself that he's okay, even if he asks her to leave, even if he hates her.

She understands the reaction, even more so after some distance and a few hours of sleep, and that might be the worst part, knowing that she's deserving of the anger, even if she never stopped loving him. She can see why he might be doubtful, but she long ago came to terms with the fact that Richard Castle would forever own her heart.

She just never thought she'd meet a man who would be willing to share.

* * *

She pauses outside the room, knocking softly and staring down at Sammy's inquisitive little face. He seems to be mocking her hesitance, and she chuckles at him, pressing a kiss to his forehead and grinning at the giggle he emits.

She wasn't sure that bringing a baby to the hospital was a great idea, but according to Alexis the nurses said it was okay, and Castle was desperate to meet his grandson. She can't exactly blame him – she's barely known Sammy for two days, and she's already smitten.

The fact that he's something good to come out of the last eight years doesn't hurt either, not when they have to explain why his mother has been absent from his bedside.

"Come in," Alexis calls, and she takes a deep breath, pushing the door open.

He completely falls apart at the sight of Sammy. She not even sure that he sees her, he's so captivated by the sight of the child in her arms. His mouth falls open and tears spring to his eyes, hands reaching out for the baby instinctively.

"Can I?" He wonders, and she looks to Alexis, more concerned about his injuries than anything else, but Alexis simply nods, speechless.

She transfers Sammy into his arms with ease that makes her edgy, because she always knew they'd be good at this.

"Hi, Sam," he coos, grinning. "Oh, he's perfect, sweetheart," he says, managing to pull his eyes away from Sammy to look at his daughter, who is just as tearful as her father.

Her heart warms for Alexis, that she is regaining the relationship she so desperately yearned for, particularly when she was pregnant. So many phone calls, so many times she assured Alexis that she could be a parent without her father's guidance, and while Alexis is a wonderful mother, she's glad she has that back.

She suddenly feels like an intruder, and she's about to back out of the room silently when Sammy starts to cry. Rick isn't even bothered by the sound, he's too enraptured by his grandson, but she reaches for the diaper bag at her feet.

"He probably needs to be changed, I can-" she starts, but Elliot cuts her off, reaching for his son.

"I'll take him," he says, and she sees the unspoken prompting in his eyes.

They need to talk to Castle, need to explain to him the changes that have occurred in his absence, the ones too monumental to drop in normal conversation. From speaking to Alexis last night, she knows she thinks it's best for the both of them to be there, but she still feels uneasy, the memory of his response to her yesterday playing in her mind unwarranted.

How are they supposed to do this?

She never imagined having to explain to him all that has changed since he disappeared. She grips the railing on the bed to keep from swaying on her feet, the memory of all that they had too much in comparison to where they are now.

If she finds it jarring, how is he supposed to adapt?

She's not sure it's a good idea to tell him, but he's supposed to be going home tomorrow, and he needs to know.

With Sammy and Elliot gone, he looks at her for the first time, his eyes drawn inexplicably to her ring. It's twisted on her finger so the stone isn't showing, but his face tightens anyway.

"Hello, Kate," he says, greeting her for the first time since she entered the room, and she's thrown by the way he says her name, so clipped, so controlled.

Her first name was always reserved for serious moments, times when he wanted her attention or when he was so overwhelmed by her that Beckett wasn't sufficient.

She's never heard it sound so… unemotional.

"How are you feeling?" She asks softly, unable to stop looking at him, revelling in the sight of him propped up and _breathing_. Even with him a foot away, even if he won't meet her gaze, it feels like a dream.

"Fine," he says, his tone measured. "Doctor says I can go home tomorrow."

"Dad, about that…"

He knows what's coming; she can see it in his eyes.

It has been obvious, really.

If Martha were alive, she'd be here, and Kate thinks on some level he knows it.

"What happened?" He asks, his voice broken and so childlike that tears spring to her eyes.

"She had a stroke," she says, after seeing the pleading in Alexis' eyes, the inability to say the words aloud.

"When?"

"Three years ago."

The words get stuck in her throat, because if she had tried harder, if she hadn't avoided his case so purposefully, maybe she would have found him before then, maybe he could have had more time with his mother.

Despite the logical part of her knowing that it would have killed her long before then if she hadn't let it go, the guilt is relentless.

He nods, pressing his head back against the pillow, silent tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I'd like a minute alone," he says steadily, and she turns towards the door, allowing him his grief.

Alexis follows reluctantly, and they take a seat in the waiting room across the hall, their eyes never straying far from the door.

"Was that… Should we not have told him?" She wonders, and Alexis shakes her head.

"I spoke to his psychiatrist yesterday about it. He had to know. He's going home tomorrow, he needs time to adjust to the fact that home isn't what he thought."

Kate nods, her heart breaking for him all over again, for the way that he has been expected to adjust to tragedies that they have had years to mourn.

"What else did he say?" She asks softly, unsure she has any right to know, but needing the answers.

Alexis' eyes cloud over, and her stomach churns.

"Kate-"

"Tell me."

She doesn't need to be danced around; she doesn't need to be sheltered from the truth.

"He's having trouble distinguishing reality from the fantasy he created to deal with what happened to him."

Alexis' words come out in a rush, and she nods, focusing on breathing properly, on listening without reading too much into the words.

"She thought he was her husband."

She states the only fact she knows, her fingers once again finding their way to the chain on her neck. It's a habit that took years to break, and Alexis watches the movement but doesn't comment.

"He thinks it was you."

The words send ice through her veins, and her eyes narrow as she waits for the explanation before she lets herself come completely undone.

"The doctor thinks, whatever she did to him… He was pretending it was you in order to get through it and eventually…"

She can't speak; can't give credence to the possibility.

"He's having difficulty telling the difference, and they think that the ring, it forces him to acknowledge what happened to him, it pulls him from his fantasies."

She doesn't understand.

Isn't that a good thing? That it's helping him separate his memories of the last eight years from reality?

Unless…

Unless reality is worse than what he faced with the woman who held him captive.

Not for the first time, she curses the expressive nature of Alexis' eyes, because the empathy is crippling.

She doesn't know how to do this.

"It'll be okay," Alexis whispers, and Kate glances at her, doubtful and frustrated by the platitude. Alexis knows how much she hates those words.

But there is nothing else, no words to make it okay, and she can't fault Alexis for that, not when she is so familiar with the feeling.

Words aren't enough.

Alexis stands, her eyes pinched with concern and not wavering from his door.

"I'm going to check on him," Alexis says. "Will you come?"

She nods, unable to deny Alexis anything, least of all support she needs so bad as to ask for it.

He's curled over on his side when they re-enter the room, and Alexis goes to his side instantly.

"Dad?"

He straightens, brushing off his daughter's concern, and turning his gaze to her.

"Why are you here?" He asks, his voice broken and pleading, and she stills instantly. "I don't want to look at you," he whimpers, and she's out the door before she completely breaks apart.

She's breathing in rapid gasps that do nothing but increase her anxiety – to the point where people are starting to stare.

"Kate."

It takes her too long to realise that Alexis is at her back, and she turns, collapsing into the familiar embrace, desperate for any kind of assurance – she'd even settle for one of those wretched platitudes – but nothing comes.

* * *

**A/N:**

**A huge, heartfelt thank you to everybody who has reviewed this story, and to all of you who continue to read. I am absolutely floored by the response.**

**Also, thank you to _Lord of Kavaka_ for a beautiful cover to this story – it's perfect, thank you.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**Rick**

* * *

He watches Alexis flee after Kate, struck by the blatant display of support, and wondering when his daughter formed such a strong relationship with his wife.

Fiancé.

Ex-fiancé.

Kate.

With Kate.

He closes his eyes, grapples for something he knows to be true.

They say he was being held against his will.

That her name was Lydia, that she was mentally ill.

That he saw Kate as a way to protect himself from what was really happening.

What was really happening…

He squeezes his eyes tighter, instinctively seeking comfort in the memories of her, the visions of their future, but where she used to be he now sees the unfamiliar ring on her finger, and the reminder that she's not his hits him like a freight train, all over again.

She's engaged to someone else.

It wasn't Kate.

He pushes his hands to his eyes until he sees spots, frustrated and unwilling to see this new memory, the one with a woman who is definitely not Kate.

He hears the door open and blinks repeatedly in order to clear his vision.

"Dad."

Alexis sighs his name as if she wants to blame him for his behaviour but can't bring herself to do it, and once again he's struck with the reality that his little girl is a mother. She carries it in her posture, her expressions, her words, that extra responsibility.

And his own mother…

He pushes that thought to where he is keeping the image of the woman who is _not_ Kate, focusing on Alexis instead.

She pulls herself together valiantly, a supportive smile on her face as she reclaims the seat beside his bed.

"Alexis…" he frowns, pushing his head back against the pillows as he tries to explain it to her. "I can't…"

He can barely process that it wasn't Kate, the hazy visions of that other woman invading his memories and making his head spin. Knowing that the fantasies he had of their future will never be realised, the constant reminder that is her presence… It's too much.

"She loves you," Alexis whispers, almost afraid to say the words. "She just wants to see for herself that you're okay."

"I don't want to see her again," he mutters, astonished when his daughter's face flashes with something that he can't quite identify, but it only lasts a moment.

Kate is not his wife. She's not the woman in his memories, and trying to determine what was real is difficult enough without seeing the pain in her eyes, the tangible proof of her ring reminding him that nothing is as he remembered.

She's engaged to someone else.

"If you want to stay in New York-" she starts, but his incredulous expression stops her cold.

"I don't want to stay in New York," he declares, softening his tone when he sees the regret in her eyes at even voicing the thought.

"If you're in San Francisco I'll go to San Francisco. There's nothing here for me."

Alexis nods, taking his hand in hers.

"I just want to be sure you're happy to come back to San Francisco with us. The loft is being rented out, so we'd have to find a place, but I could–"

"You can't do that," he interrupts softly, knowing exactly what she's about to say.

He spent hours yesterday listening to every detail of the life she has in San Francisco, and he won't force her to leave it behind.

He doesn't care _where_ she is.

Where she is he'll go, because her presence brings him clarity, and it gives him something to hold onto, an anchor to reality.

With Alexis he knows what is real. He can see every memory of her clearly, and none of them are a by-product of what was evidently a delusion.

"If you want to stay here…"

"I don't. I don't want to be here at all."

He's adamant, and she nods, accepting it easily. He wonders how long this will last, the easy agreement, the allowances.

"We were supposed to fly back next week, but I can try and get a different flight," she says, fishing her phone from her bag.

"Tomorrow," he says, and her eyes snap up to meet his, questioning his emphasis.

He needs out of the city.

Every memory he wants to forget is set to a soundtrack of the white noise of the city, and he needs to leave it behind.

"Please."

Alexis nods, her fingers moving swiftly across the device in her hands.

"Tomorrow afternoon. There's a layover in Charlotte but we can leave tomorrow afternoon."

His voice is a mere whisper.

"Thank you."

* * *

The feds make the most of the official visiting hours, wanting answers he can't give them.

They're simple questions, he can see it reflected in their eyes, but he can't do it, can't force any kind of response because it's all mixed up.

They're asking him about her and he can't ignore the memory anymore and all he can see is the blood and the look on her face when she slit her throat and Kate, fuck, _Kate_.

So many times he forced his eyes shut and saw Kate that he can't separate them and God there's so much blood.

When he wrenches his eyes open the feds are gone and there's a nurse hovering over him telling him to breathe, and Alexis is beside him with such aching worry in her eyes that he has to make it go away.

"Kate," he says, grabbing her arm. "I need to see Kate."

* * *

She bursts through the door twenty minutes later, and the mere sight of her, the affirmation that it wasn't her loosens the fist around his heart instantly.

The vivid image of her dropping to the ground covered in the blood spilling from her neck fades and he reaches for her touch.

There's hope in her eyes he has no chance of fulfilling, but the tangible proof of her existence allows him the ability to breathe, and he leans back against the pillows with his eyes closed, righting the corrupted memories.

It wasn't Kate.

It wasn't Kate.

"Rick?" She's worried; they're all worried.

All he does is worry them and let them down.

He takes another breath and forces his eyes open.

With the assurance that it wasn't Kate comes the other memories, the fantasies of their future that he played out so many times that they're real.

But they're not real, as the stone on the hand he's gripping reminds him, and he drops her hand, running a finger over the indentation on his palm.

_No_.

"Go away," he begs; unable to look at her and see the pain he knows he's inflicting, unable to handle the confusion her presence incites.

"Please go away."

* * *

He wakes with a start, blinking away nightmares he can't remember.

It's dark – it's night time, he realises – and Elliot came to take Alexis back to the hotel, so he's alone.

But he's not, he can sense it acutely and he takes a deep breath, trying to calm down and remind himself that he's in a hospital, that it's a nurse or an intern or something, but when he dares to twist his head, it's neither.

"Kate?"

She's curled up in the chair in what could not be a comfortable position, and although her eyes are open, when he says her name she jolts as if being woken.

"I'm sorry."

The apology is barely audible, and she stands quickly, fleeing before he has the chance to question if he's dreaming.

* * *

His daughter returns before the break of dawn, a hesitant smile on her face.

_He's being released today. _

The thought is paralysing, but he forces his lips to curve up into a smile anyway.

_They're leaving the city today_.

The doctors were reluctant, cautioning Alexis about his mental state as if he couldn't hear them, but he doesn't care because his daughter didn't cave.

_They're leaving the city today_.

* * *

Ryan and Esposito are by his door when he's discharged, and he doesn't even think to question it.

It's Alexis who doesn't understand, who needs to know the reason for their presence, and Espo explains that the press is outside, that they're here to escort him out the back. It's the last thing on his mind, but he's grateful that someone had the foresight to consider it, because the thought of being surrounded by reporters makes him tremble.

The sound level beyond room is loud enough and he silently wonders how he'll survive the city. But his desire to leave far outweighs the fear that is making his palms sweat.

He can do this.

He's silent as they navigate the hospital, the ambient noise increasing, and he presses his hands to his ears as best he can, willing himself to get through it.

Almost there.

* * *

They make it to the hotel, somehow.

Although he has been careful not to voice his apprehension towards the volume of the city – lest Alexis decide it's best to postpone their flights – she must be more aware than he thought, because she manages to limit their time outside to the few necessary minutes it takes to get in and out of the car.

They have three hours until they need to leave for the airport, and the plan is to wait it out in the hotel room.

Well, he thought it was.

The moment they enter the room Alexis is having a silent conversation with Elliot, the glances too obvious to be missed, but entirely incomprehensible.

"Dad?"

His head snaps up at his name, Alexis perched on the edge of the bed so that she meets his eye-line.

"Are you okay staying here with Elliot for an hour or so?" She asks, her eyes squinting slightly as if she expects him to say no.

He shrugs, glancing at Elliot, wondering why Alexis seems so concerned.

"I don't want you to feel uncomfortable," she clarifies, unwilling to let him drop her gaze for even a second. "If you need me to stay I will, you don't need to worry about hurting Elliot's feelings."

He shakes his head, forcing his lips to form what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

"It's fine," he promises, watching as she considers him carefully before nodding, looping a bag over the handles of the stroller.

Truthfully, being alone with Elliot is somewhat of a relief. It means less pressure, because even if he confuses a memory, Elliot is less likely to know the difference, and he won't get that pained look on his face that Alexis does when he makes a mistake.

"We'll be back soon, okay?" She confirms, settling Sammy into the stroller. The door to the room clicks shut behind them, and Elliot turns to him, his face pleasantly neutral.

"Do you need anything?"

He shakes his head and forces himself to his feet, intent on making it from the wheelchair to the bed on his own. His feet hurt – they're even worse since the hospital physical therapist bent them in ways that were too painful to have been natural – but he's capable of walking three steps to the bed, even if the shooting pains in his feet increase with each step.

Elliot watches him carefully, ready to catch him at the first sign of a fall, but he collapses onto the bed successfully, stretching his legs out in satisfaction. He exhales proudly, unwilling to tell Elliot that she always helped him move, that these are the first steps he has taken on his own for as long as he can remember. He's weak enough in the eyes of his daughter and son in law, he won't make it worse by taking pride in such a petty accomplishment.

He scowls inwardly, as Elliot turns away, apparently satisfied that he's no longer going to fall over like an invalid. This isn't how he wanted to meet his son in law. He always assumed he'd be the one in control, that he'd be intimidating and strong and make any man unworthy of his daughter cower. Now he just has to trust that his always-sensible daughter made a good decision.

"Do you want to watch TV?" Elliot asks, placing the remote on the nightstand and moving to the suitcase lying on the desk. "I've got to get this all packed."

Castle shrugs, making no move for the remote, instead quietly observing the way that Elliot folds their clothes neatly, flitting around the room to collect the abundance of items that litter the space.

He can't imagine that travelling across the country with a ten week old is anything but hectic, and from the amount of stuff they have, he'd say he's correct.

"Why the trip to New York?" He can't help but wonder, and in all that Alexis told him, she never gave a reason for the trip.

"To visit Kate," Elliot states, watching his reaction carefully before continuing.

"She usually visits us, but after Sammy was born... Alexis wanted to make the effort."

He's honest, and Castle can't fault him for it, even as his head spins with the knowledge that Alexis would fly across the country with a ten week old to see Kate.

"She's with Kate now," he realises, and Elliot doesn't attempt to lie, or hide the fact, simply explaining.

"She wanted to say goodbye."

Castle nods, digesting the information and realising that inherent in the situation is the fact that they won't leave him alone. He doesn't know whether it's because his daughter fears what he'll do without someone watching his every move, or because she needs to know he's safe for her own sanity.

"You and Alexis," he begins, feeling slightly proud when Elliot turns to him, a trace of fear marring his usually neutral expression.

"How did you meet?"

The fear becomes confusion then, and Elliot clears his throat, abandoning the packing.

"I thought Alexis told you-"

"She did," he interrupts. Alexis humoured him with hours of stories of their life, every detail he missed, but he wants Elliot's side. Elliot's quick to realise it, too, dropping into the armchair by the desk with a grin as if there's nothing he enjoys more than telling their story, and Castle likes him already.

* * *

The anxiety doesn't hit him until they get to Charlotte.

He's geared up for the first flight, and Alexis organised first class seats for them, and it's not as bad as he anticipated.

Until they get to Charlotte.

There are _so many people_.

They're hidden away in the back corner of the gate lounge, but the noise is stifling, and he presses his hands harder against his ears, rocking slightly in an effort to calm down.

It's just a panic attack.

Alexis holds out the bottle of anti-anxiety medication that they prescribed at the hospital, but he pushes them away with a grimace. They gave him drugs yesterday and they only made him feel worse, once the panic subsided.

It's just a panic attack.

Elliot disappears in a run and returns moments later, with huge clunky headphones in his hands that he rips from the package and holds out to him, hesitant yet hopeful.

It's only then that he dares to remove his hands from his ears, wincing at the volume of the people and announcements, pushing the headphones over his ears and feeling the anxiety ease instantly.

_Oh_.

He can think now, can focus on more than not exploding in a panic, and he lifts his grateful gaze to Elliot, who is grinning in sheer relief.

* * *

By the time they get to San Francisco, his ability to control his ever-present anxiety has dwindled to almost non-existence.

The exhaustion from the physical exertion is kicking in, and he's on edge because everyone's looking at him as if he's insane.

They're met near baggage claim by a dark-haired woman with a warm smile who introduces herself as Elliot's mother, and he can't even bring himself to respond.

She takes it in her stride, though, lifting Sammy from Alexis' arms so that Alexis can take the cart with their luggage, and Elliot pushes his wheelchair behind them without saying a word.

The trip is mercifully short, the car pulling to a stop outside a townhouse within twenty minutes, and even though the quiet drive alleviated some of the panic that has been festering all afternoon, the need to be alone, the need to lie down, is stronger than ever.

Alexis must sense it because the moment the car stops she's at his door, helping him out quickly and into the wheelchair. There are four steps up to the house, though, and Alexis falters at them, unmoving.

She's talking to Elliot about carrying him, but he ignores them, knowing that he can make it up _four stairs_.

He pushes himself to his feet, clutching the railing and willing his body to cooperate. It's not so different to before, really, except it's a railing and not her at his side, and he now has his daughter hovering behind him as if he's completely useless.

It's a feat, making it past that last step, and he's breathing heavily as he crosses the threshold, falling back into the wheelchair. Alexis pushes him through the house to the spare bedroom, and all he can hear is white noise, and he needs to lie down, needs to breathe without them looking at him as if he isn't capable of anything.

The sheets are made up on the double bed and he collapses onto it gracelessly, Alexis taking the hint and closing the door behind him.

There's a familiarity to this room he's never set foot in, but it isn't until he inhales that it hits him with unprecedented force.

Kate.

It smells like Kate.

He doesn't expect it to be such a comfort.

She never smelled like Kate, not once, and with the scent enveloping him he isn't confused. He can distinguish the two, can recall the memories he knows to be true, that he knows to be of Kate, and they're pure, untainted.

He inhales again, and his heart rate regulates for the first time all day.

Kate.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thanks to _Lord of Kavaka_ for the cover art :) **

**tumblr: l03l**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**Kate**

* * *

**A/N: ****Picks up from the end of Chapter 3.**

* * *

Her apartment is painfully silent, the emptiness providing no distraction from the too bright memory of him begging her to leave, and it replays relentlessly through her mind.

"_I don't want to look at you."_

It's been eight years, and even though she knew it wouldn't be the way it was before, she didn't expect this.

He thinks she was there, that she was the one who did this to him, and he'd prefer to believe that than the truth.

She crumples to the floor, raising her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her shins.

She can't handle this.

It's too much.

But then Alexis is calling and saying _Dad needs you _and she's headed to the hospital before she can think to second-guess her immediate reaction to go to him.

She walks through the door and for a split second he looks at her like he used to, reaching for her hand, and just when hope crests, he steals it away.

"_Go away. Please go away." _

She thought it hurt last time.

But this…

The emotional whiplash of believing that he was actually happy to see her, only for him push her away again has her heart in pieces in mere minutes.

It's déjà vu, Alexis even following her to the hallway, shame colouring her cheeks, and she can't do this again.

"I'm sorry, he was…" Alexis closes her eyes, takes a breath, and Kate can't blame her for this, not when Alexis looks just as shattered as she feels.

"He was asking for you, begging really, and he was so upset, Kate, I-"

This time when Alexis falls into her arms she's not the one who needs it most.

Alexis is clutching her as much as she is Alexis, and she's reminded that she's not the only one who relies on this relationship. It may not be healthy, the level of dependence she has on Alexis, but at least it's mutual.

"He wants to come with us back to San Francisco."

The words are muffled against her shoulder, and she swallows, replays them a few times in her head before she responds.

"San Francisco…"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" She pulls away to look Alexis in the eye, the thought making her stomach churn as she holds out hope that she misheard.

"He's so…" Alexis trails off, eyes haunted in a way she's never seen before. "He thinks that the distance will help, and I couldn't say no."

"The distance from me?" She realises slowly, the rollercoaster of emotions hitting her with full force, and she staggers backwards until she finds a wall, leaning back to stay standing.

"The city," Alexis adds, as if it makes a difference.

What did she expect?

Logically, she knew that he wouldn't want to stay with her, not if his response to her presence was any indication, but it's only now that it truly sinks in, that she sees the ramifications.

"You're leaving tomorrow?"

It's too much to process all at once, and she turns away from Alexis, feeling her world slowly cave in.

"Kate," Alexis' tone is soft, but it sounds too much like an apology, and it only makes her feel worse.

_They're leaving tomorrow. _

* * *

She spends hours pulling herself together, the shock slowly easing and leaving denial to take its place.

They only just found him; he can't _leave_.

Tim comes home to find her curled up on the couch, trying to rationalise why this can't happen, and he sees instantly that something's wrong.

"Kate?"

She stands, rubbing a hand across her forehead and exhaling slowly.

"Alexis is taking Castle back to San Francisco tomorrow," she presses out, feeling her chest tighten at saying the words out loud, reality sinking in despite her adamant refusal to acknowledge it.

His face pinches with sympathy, and she looks away, the understanding in his eyes too much to bear.

"You don't want to go see him?" He wonders, and she shakes her head.

_He doesn't want to see me. _

She's still not ready to give voice to that statement.

He reaches for her hands, looking utterly helpless and desperate to do something to make this easier for her, and he_ doesn't understand_.

She slips her hands from his, retreating towards the bedroom.

"I just need some space," she explains.

His gaze is too sincere, too kind, and she wishes once again that he could be a little less understanding. If he would yell and scream she could handle it, but the unwavering support only deepens the pit of guilt in her stomach.

He deserves so much better from her, and her heart twists because she knows she can't give it to him.

"It's yours," he says, still so reassuring, and she forces herself to smile at him, before entering their bedroom and closing the door.

* * *

Space isn't exactly practical in a two-bedroom apartment, but Tim makes a valiant effort.

He works until late in the study, sliding into bed beside her well after midnight as she lies awake trying to come to terms with all that's happening tomorrow.

If being in New York – for whatever reason – makes Castle uncomfortable, if it's going to make it harder for him to come back from this, then she knows he needs to leave. But she needs to see him, one last time.

Tim is sleeping soundly beside her when she slips out of bed, and by now the guilt plaguing her conscience is so familiar that it's easy to ignore. She doesn't bother leaving him a note to explain where she's going, if he did wake, he'd know where to find her.

It takes a flash of her badge to get past the night nurse, and she doesn't even feel guilty about abusing her authority, wondering mindlessly if there's a limit to the amount of guilt a person can feel, if she's tapped out.

Castle is asleep, and she breathes a silent sigh of relief, quietly sinking into the chair beside his bed. She couldn't handle being turned away again, seeing the agony on his face at her presence. This is easier.

She resists the urge to take his hand, curling in on herself and watching him, entranced by the way his chest rises and falls with each breath.

In sleep he looks like the man she used to know, even with the creases around his eyes, the hair greying at his temples. Memories flood her mind, a surprising comfort in the face of all that has occurred over the past few days, and she can almost pretend...

But then his eyes snap open and she freezes.

Not again.

Please, no, not again.

He says her name, almost awestruck in disbelief, and she whispers an apology, fleeing before he can register her presence and break her beyond repair.

* * *

She meets Alexis at the same café where they met three days ago, when the world was an entirely different place.

Her session with Dr Burke ran long and she's running late, but it was worth the extra time because as she makes her way through the café, she almost feels as if she can do this. Saying goodbye to Alexis is always hard, and today she's losing them both. She pushes the thought to the back of her mind and greets Alexis, taking a seat.

"Everything go okay this morning?" She inquires, and Alexis nods slowly.

"He was… anxious, when we left the hospital, but he was determined not to be. It's the noise of the city, I think. It should help, getting away."

Her heart clenches with the audible reminder of their departure, and she breathes deeply, willing it to pass. She looks to Sammy, finding solace in the innocence of his grin, the way he's so content just watching them from his stroller, but Alexis is intent on catching her gaze.

"I don't want this to come between us," Alexis says softly, and she knows then that Alexis feels it too – the slight strain between them.

"It won't," she says forcefully.

The faint disconnect is simply a result of the premature departure, the fact that Alexis and Castle are both leaving together while she stays in New York, and she won't let it linger.

Both she and Alexis want what's best for him, and if it's distance from the city, distance from her, then she can handle it.

She doesn't have the right to be selfish, not with him, and she doesn't want to be, not if it hinders his recovery. She discussed at length with Dr Burke the possibility that she may never have any kind of relationship with Castle, and that it's something she'll need to accept, but she still wants Alexis to have her father, Sammy his grandfather.

"I just need him to be okay," she says finally. Regardless of how he ultimately feels towards her, she needs him to be okay. She keeps seeing that shell of a man in that hospital bed, and she's terrified that he won't be able to get past this, that he'll never be the same. Seeing that fear reflected in Alexis' eyes, she squeezes her hand across the table, reminding herself silently that he's alive.

At this point, there's not much more they could hope for.

* * *

She revels in the time with Alexis and Sammy, unable to ignore the voice in her head that reminds her that it might be a while before she sees them again.

She's holding Sammy in her arms, wondering how big he'll be the next time they meet, when Alexis stands, apologetic.

"We need to get going."

Brushing a kiss to the top of Sammy's head, she places him back in his stroller gently, before turning to Alexis, wrapping her in a hug.

"Call anytime," Alexis whispers, and she wills back tears, tightening her hold.

"I will," she promises, a strained chuckle falling from her lips. "Look after yourself," she murmurs, and Alexis nods as the break apart. "I love you."

Alexis smiles, as if comforted by the fact that some things won't ever change.

"I love you, too."

* * *

She's back at work the moment the feds leave, taking his case with them, and she spends most of her time ignoring the way Ryan and Esposito look at her as if she's about to break.

Which she is, quite possibly, but she doesn't need them to know it.

She's a master at survival by now, at pushing every hindrance of emotion down and getting through the day.

It doesn't stop Esposito from sticking her with paperwork and effectively chaining her to her desk, but it's almost a relief. It gives her something to focus on that isn't the way every other cop in the precinct is looking at her, and it prevents her from having to make small talk with anyone throughout the day.

She's getting ready to leave for the evening when Alexis calls.

"Alexis?"

She hasn't heard anything beyond the cursory 'home safe' message she received when they landed in San Francisco, and she wants desperately to know if he's okay, whether being away from the city is helping, but she bites her tongue, first waiting for some form of response from Alexis.

"Kate."

The single syllable is a defeated sigh, and Kate falls back into her desk chair, chewing her bottom lip.

"Are you okay?"

"I think I was kidding myself," Alexis whispers after a moment's pause. "I thought he wasn't that bad, that he was just…" she cuts herself off, but not before Kate hears the sob in her voice.

"Alexis," she says, desperate to sound assuring.

"I don't know how to help him, Kate," she croaks. "I brought him out here and I'm useless."

"Hey," she says firmly, her heart constricting at the self-doubt she hears so clearly in Alexis' words.

"You're not useless. He wanted to go with you," she says, proud of the way her voice doesn't even falter. "He knows you can help him. I know you can help him. You helped me and I didn't even want it."

She tries to inject humour into her last sentence but it falls flat, the sentiment far too truthful.

"In moments he's just dad, but then something shifts in his eyes and he's gone, and I just… I don't know how to do this," Alexis says, sounding so much like a child over the phone that it pains her to be on the other side of the country.

"Neither does he," she murmurs, remembering how helpless he looked, even as he begged her to leave. "But you'll figure it out, I know you will."

Alexis sighs, the sobs receding slowly.

"Is there anything I can do? Do you need me to look into the referrals you got from the hospital?"

"I made the appointments – he saw the therapist this afternoon and he starts physical therapy tomorrow," Alexis says, seemingly doubtful that it will be any help.

"That's good," she responds, hoping to sound reassuring but not quite pulling it off.

Therapy helped her, but only when she wanted it to.

She went faithfully after Castle's disappearance, but it was more to show the people around her that she wasn't completely self-destructing, rather than actually healing. It wasn't until she committed to it that she made any progress, and Alexis knows this better than anyone.

Silence falls between them, the mutual acknowledgement that all they really have is hope going unsaid.

"Just be there," she says softly, remembering all too well how Alexis got through to her. "Just be there."

* * *

She's staggered to find that life goes on.

She focuses on going through the motions, on therapy and coming to terms with life as she now knows it, and she can't manage much more. Tim recognises it easily, and as she tries to adjust to this new form of life without Castle, he does the same.

Some days she needs him so much it hurts. It's almost worse than it was before, because even though she knows he's alive, even though she has the answers she so desperately craved, his absence is harder to ignore when she knows where he is but can't reach him.

Some days she wakes unable to decipher what's real; images of the car wreck and him in the hospital blurring together, and she spends hours on the phone with Alexis convincing her that he's alive.

Some days the guilt makes it hard to get out of bed. The memory of him in that hospital room, broken and barely recognisable plays through her head, and everything she did or didn't do that made him that way taunts her relentlessly.

It isn't like it was before, but she's not sure that it hurts less, even though she knows the truth.

Alexis is a touchstone she can't live without, keeping her sane and grounded; and together they focus on what's important.

He's alive.

That's all that matters.

Even if he's on the other side of the country, even if they never speak again.

He's alive, and he's getting help.

He's getting better.

Alexis doesn't say it outright, and she knows the progress is minute, but it's there.

She can hear it in Alexis' voice, in the way that the number of desperate phone calls at all hours of the night gradually become few and far between, and she can't get a handle on the hope that blooms in her chest.

Maybe one day they'll be able to be in the same room.

* * *

She and Tim spend weeks walking on eggshells, avoiding any kind of real conversation, because they both know what's coming.

She thought she could do it.

She really thought she could.

But Castle's alive, and even if he never wants to see her again, it changes things.

For weeks she's been approaching the inevitable conclusion that she can't marry someone else when her heart belongs to him, and she knows she's not the only one. She can see it in Tim's posture, in his apathy toward mending the unspoken rift that formed between them the moment Castle was found.

She's staring at the case file she brought home for the sole purpose of distraction, when she hears Tim emerge from the study.

They're masters at this now, the polite interactions, avoiding confrontation, but this time he approaches her purposefully, and she knows instinctually what's coming.

They can't tread water forever.

"I'm sorry," she whispers pre-emptively, needing him to know it more than anything. He doesn't deserve this.

"This isn't working," he says, his lips pressed together as if he's still deliberating, but she knows he's trying to soften the blow, that he's already made up his mind. "I won't keep you from him."

She drops her gaze to the floor, knowing full well that he's not keeping her from Castle, because Castle doesn't want her.

If it were anyone else, she would wonder whether Tim was letting her go because it's the most perfect form of torture, being free to love Castle when he can't love her back.

But this is Tim, who is looking at her so openly, so genuine in his kindness. He wants her to be happy, knows that she'll never be happy with him when there's the slightest possibility of Castle, and he's made this decision as much for her as he has for himself.

She slips the ring from her finger, pushing it into his palm.

"This isn't what it's supposed to be like," she tells him, knowing that he doesn't believe her. He doesn't believe in the kind of all-encompassing love of fiction and fairy tales, doesn't believe that it's something he can find. "I don't…"

She can't explain it to him, the way her heart beats for Castle, the way it always will, even if only pieces remain. Even if Castle never loves her again, she knows that her heart is his; that it isn't fair to anyone to ignore it.

"You deserve …" She trails off, meeting his eyes. He's such a good man, and he deserves better.

He hears the words she doesn't say, and chuckles softly, doubtful. He's a cynic, a man who was perfectly content with her because he doesn't believe that there's something better out there.

"This isn't fair to you," she says instead. "I'm sorry."

He shrugs as if he long ago made his peace with this, and maybe he did.

"Good luck, Kate."

* * *

**A/N: **

**Apologies for the delay in posting, this chapter just would not cooperate.**

**Thank you all once again for your tremendous support of this story; it truly means the world to me, I adore hearing what you think. Also, to **_**Lord of Kavaka**_**, for being so kind as to create a brilliant cover :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

**Rick**

* * *

Sleep comes in fits, but he's used to it by now.

The nightmares are no surprise either – they've been plaguing his dreams for as long as he can remember – yet when he wakes, he's on edge, his skin itching for a reason he can't quite place until his eyes adjust to the darkness.

He's alone.

The door to his room is shut, and without the soft hum of the hospital to fill the emptiness, her absence is that much more apparent.

He closes his eyes to find the memory of her sliding that scalpel across her throat replaying again, and he presses his fingers to his eyelids instinctively, not relenting until the image becomes white spots.

He knows it wasn't Kate; he can still feel her hand warm in his, confirming that the vision he now sees with that other woman taking her place on the basement floor is the one he can trust, yet the anguish squeezing his heart doesn't fade. Before he can give it further thought, he pushes himself to his feet and into the wheelchair by the bed, seeking any kind of distraction.

The lack of sunlight spilling from the curtains tells him that it's still early, and he manoeuvres his way down the hall as quietly as possible.

The house is unfamiliar, and he can barely see in the darkness, but he manages to find his way to the living room, pausing a few feet from the couch when the throbbing in his wrists prevents any further movement.

His eyes adapt gradually, uncovering pieces of the life his daughter has carved for herself, and he catalogues every detail of the room, marvelling silently. He's squinting at the photos lining the mantle, unable to make out more than mere outlines in the darkness, when Alexis descends the stairs, concern painted across her face.

"You okay?"

He nods, ignoring the pulsing in his wrists and the fact that his heart is aching and he can't sleep.

She follows his gaze to the photos, silently gathering them in her arms and making a pile on the coffee table. Flipping on a lamp, she helps him to the couch before settling in beside him, passing over the frames one by one.

The first image shows his daughter in a hospital gown cradling her newborn son, and even with the tangible proof in his hands, he struggles to grasp the concept that she's grown, that she has a family of her own.

How has it been eight years?

_Eight years_, and his daughter is a wife and a mother, and he's missed every moment of it.

He forces the thought away – it's too much to comprehend with her hopeful face looking back at him – and he wills the tears in his eyes not to fall.

"You're happy?" He confirms, his intonation making it a question even though it isn't necessary – the joy in the photos is unmistakable.

She grins at him, tracing her fingertips across the frame in her hands before offering it to him.

"I'm even happier now," she murmurs, as his eyes drop to the photo.

He recognises it instantly, remembers the place it used to hold on his desk, and when he sees the same joy in the photo of her as a child reflected in her eyes now, he feels the band around his heart loosen.

He holds a hand out for another one, but Alexis fumbles, sliding a small black frame to the bottom of the pile, and he reaches for it instinctively, realising why she was being selective the moment he uncovers the photo.

It's a candid of Alexis on her wedding day, mid-conversation with Kate, so undeniably happy. He lifts his gaze to Alexis immediately, unable to look at the picture for a moment more without losing control of his emotions. She takes the frame from his hands with such reverence that he can't help but wonder whether she was hiding it from him for her sake as well as his, and he grapples for the next one, desperate to move on.

The image won't fade though; overlaying the subsequent photos she gives him, his brain reaching conclusions he doesn't want to face.

He knows Alexis wasn't there; the last memory he has of his daughter is distinctly separate from the more recent ones that only depict _her_ and that basement, and with that knowledge and the photo side by side, the realisation sinks in quickly.

Kate wasn't there, either.

She wasn't there at all – she couldn't have been – because she was here, with his daughter. If Kate had been there, he would have seen Alexis too, and the only thing he knows for sure is that he didn't.

The visual evidence hits home in a way nothing else has, and suddenly he's doubting everything he knows with renewed force. Every memory of her without Alexis blurs, and he panics as the memories he held so close to his heart slip further away, his breath coming in short gasps because _no_, it had to be real.

The declarations of _always_ and _I just want you_, the way she looked at him like he was the only thing in the world she needed…

"I need to go to bed," he says suddenly, standing too quickly and regretting it, pain radiating from his feet at the sudden pressure. Alexis helps him to the wheelchair, thankfully not mentioning his outburst or wanting an explanation, simply pushing him down the hall.

Relief comes the moment he presses his head against the pillow, reaffirming the memories he couldn't bear to lose and cementing _her_ face in the more recent ones. He breathes deeply, focusing on the comfort that knowing the truth brings and trying to ignore the way the memories of the basement darken with the absence of Kate.

* * *

When he emerges from his room for the second time that morning, he finds Alexis in the kitchen eating breakfast, the rest of the household surprisingly silent.

She explains around a mouthful of cereal that Elliot had to go to work and that Sammy is sleeping, and he nods, tries not to show his discomfort as she fusses over him, serving him breakfast and making him coffee, not letting him move an inch without asking if she could do something for him.

"Dad?"

She's smiling encouragingly at him, and he tries to appear equally reassuring as he recalls what she was saying when he zoned out.

She's made appointments for him with a therapist in a few hours and a physical therapist tomorrow, and it's barely eight in the morning.

The thought of physical therapy has his stomach churning in dread. He has no desire to test his physical limitations, to be reminded that he doesn't have the abilities he thinks he does. The wheelchair is reminder enough – for him and for Alexis.

He won't explain to his daughter that his mobility depended heavily on her aid, won't tell her why his feet no longer support him for more than a few steps.

He's seen enough heartbreak in her eyes to last a lifetime – he's not about to intentionally inflict more.

* * *

Alexis drives him to his first therapy session, and it isn't as difficult as he expected.

He tells the doctor – Capwell – the things he knows to be true, well, the things he _believes_ to be true, because he's discovered that there are few things of which he's certain, and the man is pleasantly disarming.

The session is fine.

It's afterwards, hours later, when he realises that finding any kind of peace is going to take time and involve repeated discussion of the multitude of things that he's trying to ignore that he starts to lose it.

He doesn't want to talk about it, he wants to forget, and when Alexis asks him for the second time within an hour about therapy with such hope in her eyes, he snaps.

It's too much.

She's everywhere, all the time, telling him what to do and asking him how he is, and he needs space.

He yells at her to leave him alone, his voice deepened with anger and frustration, and he watches her recoil, regret hitting instantly but not hard enough for him to take it back.

Instead, he pushes himself down the hallway to his room, closes the door and adds it to the list of things he's trying to forget.

* * *

He finds his daughter in tears on the phone.

He emerges from his room, shame deep in his veins and fuelling his movements, but the moment he sees her, he slows to a stop.

She's hunched over the kitchen counter, her back to him, and he hears the catch in her voice, sees her shoulders ripple with the weight of the sobs.

"I don't know how to do this."

She sounds just as she did at five years old, all precocious and mature but still afraid of the monsters under the bed, only this time he's not the one comforting her. He's the reason she needs comforting.

* * *

Alexis forgives quickly.

She always has, unless given a good reason not to, and he's never been more grateful. All he does is murmur an apology and she's looking at him with such pure absolution that he can barely manage to hold her gaze.

Elliot comes home at six thirty, commencing what is clearly a well-practised routine, and he observes silently as they simultaneously care for Sammy and cook dinner. They don't seem like first time parents, not with the way they work so well together, and he finds it an unbelievable comfort, knowing that his daughter is so happy.

He watches as Elliot descends the stairs with Sammy in his arms, meeting his gaze with an unassuming smile.

"You want to hold him?" He inquires, nodding towards the kitchen. "I'll help Alexis with dinner?"

He nods quickly, grateful for something to do and for the fact that Elliot transfers Sammy into his arms without a flicker of doubt in his ability.

He slouches slightly so that Sammy rests mostly against his body, the pressure off his wrists, and smiles down uncontrollably at the awestruck grin on the baby's face. He looks just like Alexis did, except for the dark hair, and he finds himself utterly captivated. When he's able to wrench his gaze from Sammy, he glances up to see Alexis and Elliot working side by side in the kitchen, bumping hips and elbows playfully as they move around each other, and he's struck by the realisation that he couldn't have hoped for more for his daughter.

* * *

He comes to learn that Alexis and Elliot live on a strict schedule.

It's probably to be expected, given that they have a baby who needs a routine, but he finds it constricting in a way that is all too familiar. She's always there, making sure he's okay, treating him like a child, and he hates the constant reminder of just how dependent he is, even if he _does_ need someone to take him to his therapy sessions; to push his wheelchair at the end of the day when his wrists just won't cooperate.

There are days that he can't bear the way she goes overboard, helping him with things he can manage on his own, and it's then that he takes a deep breath and reminds himself that he's thankful she's willing to do it, and that she means well.

She only wants to help.

* * *

He doesn't know whether it's the therapy, or the tangible reminders that seem to surround him wherever he turns, but he manages to separate his memories of her – of them.

Sometimes they're jumbled, but if he takes his time, thinks it over, he can usually tell the difference.

Kate is the scent of his pillow, those early memories that give him such comfort. Lydia is the tightness around his wrists and the darkness of the basement.

He repeats the distinctions on a daily basis, fights for the most basic grasp of reality, and it's working, but it's all he can manage. He blocks out anything else, the photo of his mother that Alexis no longer keeps on the mantle, the distant voice in his head that seems intent on reminding him of the reality of his relationship with Kate.

_One battle at a time._

* * *

He rarely gets time alone, so when Alexis disappears to take a phone call during Sammy's afternoon nap, he flips the television on for background noise and revels in the time to himself. It's an hour later that she bursts down the stairs, and he recognises the look on her face instantly.

She's fiery, passionate in a way that he would be pleased to see, if it weren't directed at him. She takes a moment before she speaks, visibly calming herself, and he watches her carefully, no idea what's coming.

"You need to talk to Kate, Dad," she says, her tone surprisingly controlled, but her eyes still blazing.

"Alexis-" he begins, but she ploughs on.

"Is it really helping you? Pretending she doesn't exist? Because it's destroying her. She needs to know that you're okay. We spent eight years without you, _eight years_ and we all convinced her that you were gone, and now you're back and she needs _something_."

She's begging, pleading with him and he doesn't know what happened, but he knows-

"I can't, Alexis," he mumbles, ashamed by the fact.

Talking to her would push him past the simple task of dividing his memories of Lydia and Kate; it would force him to recognise that the future he envisioned for them was one of fiction, and he's not ready to face it.

"I can't."

She's not satisfied with his answer, not in the slightest, but she must see the resignation in his soul, because she deflates before his eyes, dropping to the couch beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.

"I think she needs you," Alexis murmurs, and while he can hear that she's still upset, it's at the situation, not him.

He thinks of the fantasies he still clings to, the ones of their life together thirty years from now, and he can't bear to have them torn to shreds by reality, not yet, not when they bring him such comfort.

"I can't."

* * *

It's stupid.

It's the most ridiculous thing that has ever incited this kind of rage in him, but he can't control it. It's been building ever since they got to San Francisco, every single little aspect of this reality that he's been thrust into, and he can't take it anymore.

Alexis casually tells him over lunch that they're going to spend tomorrow morning in the park, and he explodes.

It's too much, all of it.

All of the plans being made without him being allowed any kind of input, the way she keeps treating him like he's her child and not the other way around, and the fact that he doesn't want to spend the morning in the park in the wheelchair he shouldn't still need, facing the people and the noise and the pressure, and why doesn't she understand?

He's screaming.

Venting every frustration that he has tried so hard to internalise and Sammy's crying and Alexis looks ready to join him and _shit_ he's screaming at his daughter.

He stops as suddenly as he began, and Alexis immediately takes Sammy upstairs, cradling him in her arms and whispering soothingly, but Sammy doesn't stop, only crying louder.

_Fuck_.

* * *

He doesn't see Alexis all afternoon.

She stays upstairs with Sammy, and he couldn't climb the stairs if he wanted to.

Physical therapy is killing him, which is ridiculous because it's supposed to be making him feel better, but he's still stuck in the wheelchair, and the stairs are not an option.

She knows it, too.

She knows she can escape him and he can't even blame her.

* * *

When Elliot gets home, he senses the tension immediately.

There's fierce loyalty in his eyes that Castle can't fault him for, not when it comes to Alexis.

"She's upstairs," he says, and Elliot gives a terse nod, not without gratitude, before disappearing up the stairs.

He doesn't know how he can expect them to keep doing this.

* * *

When Alexis descends the stairs, she's wearing a mask of guilt, and he hates it.

Hates that he put it there, hates that he's a burden on her previously perfect life.

"It's not your fault," he blurts, in a desperate attempt to eradicate her guilt.

"It's not yours either," she responds, smiling kindly. "You just need to tell me if I'm being overbearing."

He wonders fleetingly if it's that simple.

"It's new to all of us, we need to give it time, be open with each other."

His eyes narrow the moment he recognises the phrasing.

"You're seeing one too," he realises. What is he doing to her? "A therapist."

She nods, as if he should have known this, as if it's inconsequential.

"I need to go," he says, his hands on the wheels, pushing as hard as he can even though his wrists are throbbing stubbornly.

He needs to get out of here, needs to stop being such a burden and he needs to stop hurting her.

"Dad."

Alexis stops him without trouble, and the reminder of his weakness does little to change his mind.

"Dammit, Alexis," he grunts, forcing himself to his feet. "Get out of my way."

She doesn't listen, easing him back into the wheelchair even though he is tensing every muscle and refusing to cooperate.

"It's not because of you," she says, and despite his best efforts, she gets his attention, because there is no way that he's not the reason that she needs therapy. "It's my fault," she says, her eyes glazing over, and he needs some context because he has no idea what she's talking about. "You're allowed to hate me," she whispers, and he blinks up at her, even more confused.

"I don't hate you."

That he could hate her is utterly ridiculous – even with anger and frustration bubbling in his veins he knows that.

"Kate, she would have found you, eventually, but I made her stop. I was so sure that she wasn't going to find you, and I was so afraid of losing her that I was selfish and I made her give up. It's all my fault."

He's too silent, can't think of anything to say, and in the absence of a response, the words slip out before he can stop them.

"I wish you hadn't found me."

* * *

He thought he hurt his daughter with his words before, but this is immeasurably worse.

Her whole heart breaks apart, right before his eyes, and he blinks, tries to think of a way to make her believe he didn't mean it.

"Do you really think that? That you'd be better off back there?" She whispers, incredulous.

"I…" he stammers, desperate to give her the answer she wants but coming up short.

All he does is hurt her – when he's not busy being a burden– and he can't even trust his own memories.

Even if that basement wasn't the way he remembers it, even if it was a delusion, it was easier to live there than it is to accept this.

"Because I don't," she disagrees, vehement. "You don't understand what it was like without you, and maybe this is hard, maybe this is excruciating for you, but I have my father back. I have my dad, and my son is going to know his grandfather, and I don't care if this hurts, if you take it out on me, I don't care about any of it. It's worth it. Having you here with us, it's worth anything."

He's stunned, too staggered to even form words, but her eyes burn with determination, and he realises that she means it. She doesn't consider him a burden; she doesn't wish she could go back to the way it was before. All it takes is a few minutes for it to sink in, and he knows that she's right.

He spent eight years without his daughter, without his family, and despite the frustration and the pain, despite the fact that the family he knew has changed in every possible way – they're worth it.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I continue to be absolutely floored by the response to this story. Thank you all so much for your support and encouragement, I hope this chapter lives up to your expectations. **

**Also, I have recently joined the craziness that is Twitter! I'm still trying to get my bearings, but I will be posting updates to this story and anything else I write, so if that interests you at all you can find me over there – l03l_ or on tumblr – l03l**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven **

**Kate**

* * *

Shame settles deep in her stomach as she knocks on her father's door, duffel bag in hand.

Finally admitting that she and Tim can't make it work feels a lot like failure, and the shame is an unfortunate consequence, even though she knows it shouldn't be high on the list of things she's feeling as the future she planned slips out of her grasp.

She hadn't considered the awkwardness of breaking up with someone you're living with until she was standing across from him in the suddenly too small apartment, her ring in his hand.

Although it became theirs over time, it was Tim's apartment first, and while he insisted that he could sleep on the couch, that they didn't have to work it out straight away, she knew she would be the one to move out, and she needed the space. Space from the apartment, from him, from the life she was giving up because her heart is so intensely stubborn.

Tim was predictably kind, stressing that she didn't have to move out immediately, that she could keep her key and collect her things whenever it suited, and she thanked him, packing clothes and necessities and leaving everything else to be dealt with later.

She needs the space, even if it means standing at her father's doorstep at eight thirty on a weeknight needing a place to stay.

When her father opens the door he doesn't say a word, simply enveloping her in a hug, and tugging her inside, and she has never been more grateful that he knows her so well. After only a short phone conversation to explain to him what happened, he knows exactly what she needs – unquestioning support.

She mumbles that it's only temporary, just until she finds a new place, but he silences her with assurances that she doesn't need to rush.

When she looks up to give him a reassuring smile, there's knowledge in his eyes that is too hard to face, so she buries her face against his chest, prolonging the physical comfort that she won't allow herself to need tomorrow.

He was so happy for her, so pleased that she had managed to find someone and muster the courage try again, and alongside that knowledge in his eyes is grief for her, for the happiness that always seems just out of reach.

"Oh, Katie," he sighs, and she doesn't lift her gaze when he pulls away from the embrace, remembering why it was so much easier to update him over the phone.

He feels for her, he takes every emotion she wants to ignore and turns it into empathy, and she can't handle it, not now.

"I'm tired, dad," she mumbles, looking up at him and begging for him to leave it at that.

He acquiesces silently, ushering her through the apartment and to the spare room, and she doesn't breathe normally until she's alone.

* * *

She's getting home from work the next day when Alexis calls, and for the first time that she can remember, she's hesitant to answer.

Dread seeps through her veins at the thought of telling Alexis about Tim, even though she fails to recall a time when Alexis hasn't been unconditionally supportive, and she answers the phone, reminding herself that she's being ridiculous.

They fall into easy conversation and she relaxes instantly, but then Alexis asks after Tim and she can't lie, not to Alexis.

"We ended it."

She ensures that her voice is level, that she sounds normal, but realises too late that she would have been better off going for upset. Alexis would be less concerned if she were upset.

Dammit.

"Kate-"

"It's fine," she presses out. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," Alexis sighs, no trace of surprise in her tone.

While she never said it outright, she knows Alexis was aware that things were slowly imploding with Tim. She has barely been able to keep her own head above water, trying to do the same for their relationship was an impossibility, especially as they each realised that it couldn't last.

"Are you sure that you're okay?" Alexis probes, and she exhales softly, considering.

She misses him.

Tim was a steady presence in her life, someone she depended on, and after only one day without him there's a noticeable void, but it's not crippling – not like it was when she lost Castle. She feels the difference acutely, and it reinforces her faith in the decision.

"I'm okay," she reiterates. "It wasn't fair to him. No matter how many times he told me that he understood… He deserves someone who can love him with their whole heart, and I can't."

She's hoping that the honesty will satisfy Alexis, that they can move on to a less painful topic, but Alexis doesn't let it go.

"You know that dad isn't…"

"I know," Kate interrupts. She doesn't need to hear again that Castle is still unwilling to talk to her. Alexis is well aware that she didn't end her relationship with Tim with the expectation that Castle would suddenly be over the trauma of the last eight years and want to give her another chance – she doesn't need the warning. Even if Castle never wants to know her, her heart will always be his, and it won't be denied.

"He _is_ improving, Kate," Alexis says, her voice soft but confident. "He knows he was held against his will, and he's remembering her."

Hope sparks in her chest at the words, and she tamps it down, ignoring the optimistic voice in her head that dares to suggest maybe one day he'll allow her to be in his life.

Hope breeds disappointment, and she needs better control over it, even if it is all they have. She can't be infinitely hopeful, she needs to be realistic.

But then Alexis inhales audibly, murmuring words that make hope flare, and she surrenders to it entirely.

"He knows you weren't there."

* * *

Living with her father after so many years is an adjustment.

Suddenly her habit of working too hard is under constant scrutiny, and even though he would never say anything, she's all too familiar with his silent and disapproving glances.

He's worried about her, but he needn't be. After the last few weeks, she needs to remind her colleagues – and herself – that she's still capable of doing her job, even if that means being first in every morning and last to leave at night. Besides, staying busy keeps her sane, keeps her from thinking too much about the fact that she ended a relationship with the most perfect man because her heart refuses to let go of someone who can't bear to speak to her.

She works, she sees Dr Burke, and if she has a spare minute during the day she glances at apartment listings.

She doesn't realise just how worried her father is until she starts getting a few extra phone calls from Alexis, claiming she's just checking in.

Her father is well aware of Alexis' ability to get through to her, and she also knows that after she threw his concern back in his face when Castle disappeared, he is hesitant to voice his thoughts about how she handles her grief.

She sees his interest pique each time she answers Alexis' calls, so she stays within earshot, telling Alexis that she's fine and resolving to do better.

She makes an effort to demonstrate that his concern is unnecessary, that even though her life has been upended, she's okay and she'll get through it.

She leaves the precinct each night when Ryan does, eats dinner with her father and tells him about her day, determined to prove to him that he doesn't need to worry.

What starts as a deliberate routine becomes something she relies on, and she slowly realises that the words she's telling her father aren't lies to placate him – they're the truth.

She'll be okay.

* * *

When Lanie suggests they grab dinner after work, it's more of an order than a question, which is how she finds herself headed to a restaurant halfway between the precinct and the morgue the moment she's finished at the twelfth.

It has been weeks since she and Tim broke it off, and months since she had a conversation with Lanie that wasn't over a dead body, and Lanie is no longer hearing the excuses of "I'm fine," and "I don't want to talk about it".

She has needed the time to process, to work with Dr Burke and adapt to this new reality without the commentary of her very honest friend, but now the thought of confiding in someone who she isn't paying to remain impassive, and who isn't also considering Castle's best interests, is surprisingly appealing.

Alexis is always impartial, always on her side even if she's also on her father's, but she knows she can count on Lanie to be objective, even painfully so.

When she was killing herself trying to find Castle, that objectivity – Lanie's inability to truly understand what she was going through – was the reason their friendship suffered.

Lanie had no idea how she felt – she wasn't the one facing a life without the only person that ever made it matter – and yet she was telling her to let it go.

She pushed Lanie away, like she did anyone with advice she didn't want to hear, but they've since mended the fractures that formed in their friendship, hindsight allowing her to see that Lanie was making the same point Alexis did, only without the personal experience that made it persuasive.

"How are you doing?" Lanie inquires softly, after they're tucked away in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant.

She has carefully avoided discussing her personal life at work, lest she lose it completely, so Lanie only knows what is common knowledge, but from the look on her face, Lanie probably knows more than she'd be willing to admit.

"I'm okay."

She diverts the conversation, asking Lanie about work and Esposito, anything that comes to mind, as she adjusts to the sympathy in her eyes.

When Lanie looks pointedly to her now bare ring finger twice in the space of a minute, Kate rolls her eyes at the unspoken question.

"We broke it off," she says, confirming what Lanie already knows, but Lanie doesn't leave it at that, lifting an eyebrow as she waits expectantly.

"He ended it," Kate clarifies. They both knew it was a ticking time bomb, but he was the one to pre-empt the explosion.

"I don't know what you're still doing here, if I'm being honest," Lanie says, and she realises that she completely misinterpreted the eyebrow raise.

"It's not that easy."

Disregarding the fact that Castle has yet to indicate that he could handle even a conversation, she is still struggling to accept what happened to him as a result of her giving up, still trying to let go of the future she planned with Tim.

"You love him," Lanie states plainly. "It's the one thing you've always known – haven't you wasted enough time?"

"It's not that easy," she repeats. "You didn't see him, Lane, he was… Not the man I remember. He has spent eight years with this woman, thinking… thinking she was me."

It sounds bizarre to say it aloud, to admit it, and she would barely believe it herself if the statement didn't come with the visual of him repulsed by her presence, begging her to leave.

"He couldn't even look at me. I might love him, but the best thing I can do for him is not push."

She would rather continue living in this suspended state of loving him and not being able to explain it to him than force a confrontation and have him push her away again. Hope is a stubborn thing, blooming every time Alexis tells her that he's making progress, and it insists that if she's patient, one day he might be able to love her, too.

Even when the realistic side of her takes over, she doesn't want to throw away the chance.

"I can't believe he was in New York, this whole time," Lanie murmurs, shame evident in her tone. "I'm sorry I –"

Kate shakes her head, silencing any apology she doesn't want to hear. She doesn't want to forgive Lanie because she doesn't want to blame her in the first place. She has come to learn that blame is useless, a vicious cycle that only ever reminds her of her own failures, and she hears Dr Burke's voice in her head telling her that no one is at fault.

"I was sure… I thought there was no way it could end well," Lanie says instead, and Kate grunts softly. "You were right."

He's alive, but Alexis is overdoing it trying to help him, and she's here alone, desperate for him, and no one's happy, not really, and yet…

_Maybe one day_, that voice insists.

* * *

She passes on two perfectly good apartments that are close to the precinct and within her price range because when she talks to her father about them his smiles look more like winces.

He has enjoyed having her close, and she, too, has found comfort in his company, but it was never meant to be a permanent arrangement. She's sleeping in a room that barely fits her twin bed, and she needs her own space, needs to feel as though she's moving forward.

Ultimately she compromises, extra commute time for a place within walking distance of her father's, because she's learned too many times over not to take people for granted.

* * *

With the keys to her new apartment comes the need to face Tim, to actually finish moving out. He was more than willing to let her postpone until she found her own place, agreeing with her rationalisation that there was no point in moving boxes to her dad's only to have to repeat the process, but there's no avoiding it now.

There's no avoiding him now.

She texts him, explaining that she has the weekend off and asking if she can drop by and pack up the rest of her things, and his response is kind, detailing his plans so that she can organise her visit as she pleases. She finds some strange comfort in the confirmation that he's still a creature of habit, his Saturday consisting of the usual morning at the gym and afternoon catching up on any necessary work or household chores.

She gets there soon after he has left for the gym, intent on getting started before he gets home and any awkwardness between them slows her progress, but when she unlocks the door, she finds there's far less to be done than she expected.

Boxes line the living room wall, open but filled meticulously with her possessions, and she comes to realise that he has combed through the living room and kitchen for her things, making her task infinitely easier.

She's piling cosmetics into a box, mindlessly wondering why she has so much make-up when she clearly doesn't use it, when she hears the door open, and she emerges from the bathroom to make her presence known.

For a split-second Tim grins at her as if it were any other Saturday, and then he sees the boxes, remembers, and drops his head, a blush staining his cheeks.

"Hey, Kate."

"You didn't have to do this," she says, gesturing to the boxes, and he shrugs.

"It was nothing, really, I just added to them as I came across things that were yours."

It's not true, not from the way they're packed with such care, but she lets him hide behind his kindness.

"Thank you."

He shrugs, dropping his gym bag next to the door.

"I've missed you," he admits, and she gives him a closed-lipped smile.

"I've missed you, too."

They were always good friends, two people that didn't believe they'd find love, falling into a relationship that was more than she'd ever imagined but less than she knew possible, and even knowing they made the right decision, she still misses her friend.

But trying to sustain that friendship now is an exercise in futility, something she knows from the way he can't meet her gaze, from the silence that hangs between them, and she knows that he recognises it too.

There's nothing more to be said, and he grabs a couple of the boxes, gesturing for her keys.

"Let me help you carry these down," he offers, and she hands him her keys with a grateful smile.

She had anticipated hours of sorting through their things and packing haphazardly, calling in reinforcements at the end of the day to help carry it all down to the van she rented, and possibly repeating the process tomorrow, but she overlooked Tim's inherent kind nature, that he wouldn't sit idly by without helping. Instead, he loads up the van while she packs boxes, and by the time she's satisfied that she's got everything, she has one box in her arms and he's waiting at the door with a too-forced smile.

She slips his key into his hand much like she did his ring, only this time when she says goodbye, she knows it's for good.

* * *

**A/N:**

_**Lord of Kavaka**_**, thank you for the cover art :)**

**Twitter: l03l_**

**Tumblr: l03l**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**Rick**

* * *

He wakes before dawn, last night's argument with Alexis weighing on his mind.

_It's worth it. _

He repeats it twice, wills himself to remember it.

Alexis reassured him multiple times that having him here is not a burden, and he's determined to believe it, and in turn, focus on the positives. The people under this roof are reason enough to fight for this life he's been thrust into, even if it's tough, even if it's painful, and he can't let himself forget it.

He lies in bed long after light starts filtering through the blinds, allowing Alexis at least the illusion that he slept well, and when he makes his way to the kitchen, he finds her on the phone, smiling at him as she ends the call with "thank you" and "we'll see you soon".

Evidently last night's outburst and the muttered _"I wish you hadn't found me"_ didn't leave her with a good impression of his state of mind, because she's booked him an additional hour a week with Dr Capwell. He goes to assure her that it isn't necessary, to try and assuage her concerns, but she just looks at him with this familiar steely determination that he can't quite place and he knows he doesn't stand a chance. So he nods, forces a smile, and wheels himself to the fridge, intent on preparing his own breakfast.

They managed to come to an agreement last night, once tempers died down.

He will speak up when he needs help, provided that she gives him the chance to do things on his own.

He can feel her gaze boring into the back of his head as he approaches the ridiculous, high-tech monstrosity they call a coffee machine, but he refuses to falter. It's too far back on the counter and he can't quite reach, but he needs to be able to make himself a measly cup of coffee, especially when Alexis is watching him so intently, so he grips the edge of the counter and pulls himself to his feet.

He gives up on the idea of frothing milk once he finally gets coffee out of the thing, because his feet are stiff from yesterday's physical therapy and he needs to sit down, but he does it. He turns to Alexis when he falls back into the wheelchair with a mediocre cup of coffee in his hands, and they both pretend she wasn't waiting for him to fail.

* * *

He spends the day trying to prove himself while Alexis pretends she isn't hovering, and by the time Elliot gets home, he's thankful for the distraction that another person in the house provides.

Alexis proposes they order pizza for dinner, and he can tell from the look on Elliot's face that it isn't a regular occurrence, that probably the only reason she's suggesting it now is because she doesn't want him insisting on helping them cook, and he bites the inside of his bottom lip in an effort not to comment. He doesn't want to argue with his daughter, doesn't want to make life any harder for her, so he takes a breath and resolves to let it go.

Once the pizza is ordered, Alexis disappears upstairs to make a phone call, and Elliot asks him conversationally about physical therapy, and he finds it so much easier to discuss with someone who isn't so hopeful about his progress.

Elliot is realistic about the fact that it will take time, and the lack of expectation is refreshing in comparison to the pressure of Alexis' well-intentioned positivity.

They unstack the dishwasher, chatting mindlessly until the pizza arrives, and Alexis returns as Elliot is serving it out onto plates.

He is distracted immediately by the inexplicable defeat in her eyes, the way it's evident even in her posture as she joins them in the kitchen.

"Everything okay?" He asks, sure that it's not.

Alexis shrugs, her expression now carefully blank, as she makes it perfectly clear that the topic isn't up for discussion.

"Let's eat," she says, lifting the pizza boxes from his hands and putting them in the oven herself, and he swallows the feeling of utter uselessness in favour of peace.

* * *

The find a balance, eventually.

He learns – after a particularly painful incident involving an attempt at climbing the stairs – to ask for help when he needs it, and she learns that standing over him and waiting to take over isn't constructive.

Dr Capwell helps him work through the memories of the basement now that they feature Lydia alone, and in doing so, any notion that he'd prefer to be back in that room disappears.

Without Kate there, the visions of Lydia treating him like a husband make his stomach revolt.

The way she would restrain him every time she went out, press a kiss to his lips and murmur _I don't want to lose you_.

The way she would come home and release him, continue to act as though they were a normal couple.

With every snapshot of a memory his stomach lurches and he has to resist the instinctual urge to close his eyes, instead focusing on the room he is in, on every detail, every piece of evidence that he's no longer in that basement, and reminding himself that he's okay – they found him.

They found him.

* * *

He likes Elliot.

He never thought he'd be getting to know his son-in-law after the fact, but he's proud that Alexis has found someone like Elliot.

He's easy-going and friendly, yet straightforward and earnest, and his love for his family is plain to see, even if Castle doesn't get to spend all that much time with him.

The guy leaves for work before the sun rises so that he can get home at a reasonable hour, and when he is at home he wants to spend every moment with his son, and it only makes Castle like him more.

He asks Alexis about the arrangement, about why she didn't go back to work after she had Sammy, his implication more obvious than he intends.

_Is it because of me?_

They've been doing better, his fear of being a burden easing as he slowly loses his reliance on the wheelchair and is able to help more with Sammy and around the house, but he still wonders. Wonders whether this was always her plan, or whether she changed her mind when they went to New York and returned with an invalid.

She smiles softly, catching his gaze.

"I don't want my kid to have a nanny."

It takes him a moment to recall the conversation, and when he does, his heart swells and he reaches for her hand.

The subsequent explanation detailing the cost of a nanny in comparison to the salary she had been making and the fact that Elliot earns more than she did goes over his head as the years he spent raising his daughter flash before his eyes. He looks to Sammy, touched that she wants her own son to have a childhood similar to the one he gave her, and revels in the reminder that wonderful things have happened over the last eight years.

* * *

He has made a point of needing a little independence, so when Alexis takes her afternoon coffee out onto the porch, he doesn't say anything because he can't fault her for wanting some time alone while Sammy's asleep. But then Sammy wakes, his cries permeating through the baby monitor in the living room, and Castle casts a glance up the stairs, remembers with a wince what happened last time.

"…and there's plenty of space? A spare room for a couple and a baby?"

She sounds… happy, he realises, less stressed than usual, and he hates to interrupt, but she hears the cries over the baby monitor in his hand anyway.

"Sammy-" he starts, apologetic, and she ends the call with "I'll talk to you later" as she stands.

"Are you looking for a house?" He wonders as he follows her inside, completely confused.

"No," she shakes her head, climbing the stairs with agility he can only wish to possess. "A friend – from college," she stumbles, "just moved into a new apartment. You want to get started on dinner?"

She's out of sight then, and he finds himself distracted by the fact that she's letting him be the one to make dinner.

* * *

The moment he feels as though he can live with what occurred in that basement, or at least is able to supress the need to vomit at the slightest hint of a memory, the night terrors begin.

He has spent weeks and weeks in therapy trying to process the visions that plague his sleep, but these are nothing like before, nothing like the gut-twisting images of Lydia in that basement.

They're worse.

They're panic-inducing glimpses of a man he doesn't recognise and it _hurts _and why can't he get away?

He wakes each morning in a cold sweat, desperate for his old nightmares to return, grappling for any possible way to erase the visions that jolt him into consciousness with terror pumping through his veins, and he's handling it, kind of, until the morning he wakes with the realisation that they aren't nightmares at all.

They're memories.

* * *

It's not the basement; it's a farmhouse or barn of some kind, which is why he didn't stop to consider the possibility that they were anything other than a product of his imagination, but now he remembers it all with startling clarity.

It was worse than any depiction of hell he could ever imagine.

Opening his eyes to Lydia, that crazed look on her face as she ensured the metal restraints were tight enough to dig into his hands and ankles, Kate's voice on the phone – so tender – echoing in his mind.

_I love you, too_.

Every memory makes his palms sweat and his body tremor, but apparently it's progress – remembering.

It doesn't feel like progress, it feels like torture, and he doesn't know how to process the images that assault him during all hours of the day and night.

She's nothing like the woman in the basement.

This Lydia is sadistic, and she has a friend, a man who threatens all kinds of physical harm and always – _always_ – lives up to his promises.

The injections, the broken bones…

He can still hear his voice.

_She's your wife_.

* * *

He channels all of his fear into his physical therapy.

All of the adrenaline that follows the flashes of Lydia instructing her friend to twist his wrist, to break his foot, then tending to him afterwards, her touch repulsive but vital, as she whispered _I hate to see you hurt, sweetheart. _

He was warned that losing the wheelchair would be a gradual process, but he finally starts seeing the possibility of a full recovery, and his motivation flares.

The first time he goes an entire day without using it the satisfaction is overwhelming, and he starts thinking that even with the night terrors tormenting him at every turn, even with his inability to consider the reality of Kate, he might actually be able to do this.

* * *

The next day he can barely walk two feet without collapsing, and when Alexis suggests that he pushed it too far, he snaps.

He yells at her, and not for the first time he wonders why he keeps taking his frustrations out on his daughter.

She's done nothing to deserve it, and yet she takes it on the chin, this fierce warrior look in her eyes that he recognises instantly.

Kate.

Alexis walks away, clearly intending to wait for him to calm down, but he spills apology after apology, drawing her back.

She forgives him with grace that has only developed in his absence, and it takes his breath away as he wonders how he didn't see it sooner – the similarities.

So many of her mannerisms, the way she carries herself… They're all pieces of Kate that she has emulated, consciously or subconsciously, and he finds himself reconsidering all that he assumed about their relationship.

* * *

He's reading to Sammy when the phone rings, and Alexis – surprisingly – doesn't take it upstairs, instead pacing mindlessly in the kitchen.

Sammy reaches for the book in his hands, babbling unintelligibly and he laughs, enamoured.

"I'll have to check."

Alexis' voice snaps him back to reality, and he pulls his attention from Sammy when she hangs up the phone.

"Check what?"

She's hesitant to reply, taking her time to formulate a response before speaking.

"We usually have dinner with Elliot's family the first weekend of every month, but I'm not sure this week will work."

She's lying.

Well not _lying_, but she's deliberately skirting the truth, and he knows why.

"I can handle it," he tells her, nodding for emphasis. They've talked about this, his need not to interrupt their lives or routines, so if this family dinner is something he has been preventing, he won't let it continue.

"I can, Alexis," he says, lifting Sammy in his arms, proud of the way his wrists hardly complain at the motion and delighting in the way Sammy giggles. "I can handle it," he repeats, resolute.

They've been making a point of easing into the public outings, the interactions with people outside of the household, who don't understand why he tremors constantly or why he can't bear too much noise.

He's sure he can handle a meal with Elliot's family.

Alexis' eyes narrow as she considers it, and his confidence doesn't waver.

"If you're sure it won't be too much."

* * *

Elliot's family is nothing like Elliot.

His younger sisters are both talkative and friendly, almost overwhelmingly so, and he's thankful for Sammy, because he absorbs the majority of their attention.

He barely remembers Elliot's mother from that night at the airport, and she reintroduces herself kindly with her husband as they exchange greetings.

Everybody files into the living room, and the absence of his mother hits him unexpectedly at the sight of Elliot and Patricia, the undeniable sense of family permeating the house.

Alexis sends him a questioning glance and he takes a deep breath, smiles reassuringly.

He can handle this.

* * *

The camaraderie of a large family is foreign to him, and while it doesn't help his anxiety, he can't help but notice how Alexis thrives.

The conversation is fast and flowing, Elliot's sisters detailing just about every minute of their lives over the last few weeks, interrupting each other constantly and stopping only to fuss over Sammy, until Elliot takes him upstairs to put him to bed.

It's then that the conversation wanes, and Elliot's youngest sister, Helen, turns to him, her eyes squinting in confusion.

"You're Kate's ex-husband, right?"

The table falls silent, and while he can tell it was an innocent question, a simple clarification, really, it lands like a blow to the gut.

Alexis is staring at him wide-eyed, waiting for him to explode, because there hasn't been mention of Kate since he dismissed the mere idea of talking to her. Alexis has been hesitant to even say her name in his presence, and he – selfishly – has appreciated not being reminded of the reality of their relationship and the way it contradicts the fantasies of their future that he still can't quite let go.

But it's not the mention of her name that has him struggling to breathe.

It's not even the reminder that he has been absent for eight years of his daughter's life.

It's that apparently, in the eyes of Elliot's family – his daughter's family – he only holds a place in Alexis' life by virtue of Kate.

He's familiar with the anger that swells at Lydia for taking this from him, and he tamps it down, fights for control, because everyone's looking at him, and being known as Kate's ex-husband is preferable to the lunatic who lost it at a simple question.

Elliot's other sister mutters "you're an idiot" in Helen's direction, as he forces his mouth to form words.

"We were never married," he manages, and Elliot comes down the stairs, takes one look at the tension hovering over the table and jumps in with a story about Sammy, diverting everyone's attention.

When he looks back to Helen she's confused and apologetic, and he tries to twist his mouth into a smile, tries to exude forgiveness or at least understanding, but he's stuck on the title as it repeats in his head.

_Kate's ex-husband. _

* * *

Alexis must realise that even though he has yet to lose it, he is steadily heading in that direction, because the evening ends swiftly after dessert.

He follows everybody to the door, saying goodbye, determined to appear unaffected, even as his heart clenches painfully.

Elliot and Alexis turn to him the moment everyone is gone, and their matching looks of apprehension would be humorous if the concern wasn't crippling.

"I'm sorry, dad, I told everyone not –"

"It's fine," he interrupts, preferring to remain oblivious to the topics his daughter considers him incapable of discussing.

"I'm going to go to bed."

He will not let this break him. He needs to prove to Alexis – to himself – that he can hear her name, that he can hear her family consider him an extension of Kate and not lose it, so he walks purposefully down the hallway to his room, calling goodnight over his shoulder.

The isolation does wonders for the frustration bubbling in his veins, and he lies on the bed, tensing every muscle and relaxing them slowly, allowing the tension to dissolve with each repetition.

Images flood his mind of Kate in his place at that dinner table, cementing her role in a family that should be his, and he's surprised to find that his reaction is not one of anger or jealousy – it's gratitude. Gratitude that Kate was willing to be there for his daughter when she needed someone, that they had each other.

* * *

Alexis is tentative when she descends the stairs the next morning, as if she's expecting him to have some kind of breakdown, but he feels oddly calm.

He has a cappuccino warming his palms, and after last night's realisation that the mention of Kate's name is easy to stomach in comparison to the night terrors he still can't vanquish, he almost feels content.

"I'm sorry if I've kept you from talking about Kate," he begins.

The guilt was insistent as he lay awake, every phone call Alexis took upstairs or outside, every moment she faltered mid-conversation over the dinner table coming into focus.

"It's okay," she replies instantly, visibly uncertain about the topic of conversation.

"You can say her name," he says, trying to inject some humour into his voice to show her that it's okay, and she takes a moment before nodding.

"I'm sorry if I've been overly cautious," she says, and upon seeing the relief in her eyes, he wonders if this has been weighing on her, and the thought makes his heart twist. They're still trying to figure out the intricacies of this version of their relationship, and he can't blame her for avoiding topics that might upset him, but if it is to her own detriment, but he won't let it go on.

"Maybe…" He swallows, tries again. "Maybe you could tell me about it – how you became friends."

He's infinitely curious as to how Kate became such an influence on his daughter, to the point where the similarities are almost blatant at times.

Alexis shakes her head with amusement, as if 'friends' doesn't begin to cover it, and it only furthers his curiosity.

"We missed you," she starts. "I was…" She trails off, as if trying to recall the memory with perfect clarity.

"She knew how I was feeling. She didn't treat me like a child."

He smiles inwardly, because if he remembers correctly, Kate Beckett never did treat his daughter like a child. Kate was the one that thought he should let her grow up, even when he wanted to hold on to his little girl with both hands.

"She needed someone, and I needed to be needed," Alexis says, thoughtfully. "She told me so many times that I was the strong one, but I don't know what I would have done without her."

He swallows thickly, visions of them, of what they endured invade his brain, and he reaches for his daughter's hand.

"It's not your fault," she whispers, seeing the guilt in his eyes, and he shakes his head.

He knows it isn't his fault. He shudders at the sight of Lydia in that farmhouse and knows he never wanted to be there, but at the thought of what his daughter suffered in his absence, his anger feels a lot like guilt.

Dr Capwell has said it was a method of survival, his compliance.

That what he suffered in the beginning at the farmhouse forced his obedience, because he couldn't have endured it for eight years. That the only reason he's here now is because he played along, allowed himself to give in to her delusions.

Even so, his compliance left his daughter without a father, and put that broken look in her eyes, the one she hides so well behind the grace and maturity, and the guilt remains, finding a companion in the gratitude he feels towards Kate for being there to help her through it.

* * *

He's supposed to be doing the exercises the physical therapist gave him.

He has spent months in physical therapy, and while he no longer needs the chair – not even when he's tired – he's still supposed to be strengthening his muscles, but his conversation with Alexis plays over in his mind.

The cell phone she bought him sits on his nightstand, the one she programmed with any number he might need, and when he scrolls through the contacts, he lands on the one he's looking for and rolls his eyes at his daughter's foresight.

The phone rings twice before it's answered and there's a distinct pause at the other end of the line, and he knows that his name must have appeared on her phone, that Alexis must have given her this number.

"Hello?"

She sounds hopeful, so hopeful in that single greeting that he has to swallow past the lump in his throat before he can respond.

"Kate?"

* * *

**A/N: **

**Apologies for the delay in posting, and thank you all for your patience and support :)**

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	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**Rick**

* * *

"_Kate?"_

"Rick," she murmurs, almost disbelieving.

"Yeah," he says, a quiet confirmation that does little to start the conversation, but he's too distracted by the sound of her voice to say much more. His memories of the past – the ones that have been drowned out by the nightmares – brighten before his eyes, and he finds himself lost in the images until she pulls him back.

"How – how are you?" She fumbles over the words, and then groans softly as if she regrets the question.

"I'm okay," he returns, feeling comfortable with the assessment. "I just, I wanted to thank you, for Alexis," he says, struggling to adequately express his gratitude.

He put his daughter through hell – he saw it reflected in her eyes as she spoke of the time following his disappearance – yet she still became a strong, well-adjusted woman, and he knows Kate helped her get there.

"For Alexis?"

She sounds utterly confused, and he knows he hasn't made his point at all the way he intended.

"For being there for her," he clarifies. "During all that I – this – put her through."

"Castle," she breathes. "You didn't put her through anything. Whatever…" she clears her throat, continues softly. "Whatever happened, you're here now, and if anything were different, maybe you wouldn't be."

There's knowledge behind her words, knowledge Alexis must have shared, and he wonders how many times Alexis called Kate in need of support, in need of someone to talk to. Guilt flares, and he can't hear her anymore, too distracted by the churning of his stomach.

"Just, thank you," he manages, hoping she understands. That Alexis had to endure this at all makes his heart clench and probably always will, but he tries to remember that by Alexis' own admission, it could have been worse.

_I don't know what I would have done without her_.

"Your daughter's amazing," Kate says. "You don't need to thank me, I wouldn't be here without her."

Her words make him falter, catching him off guard with their sincerity, and in his silence she continues.

"Look, Castle, I –"

"I don't want to come between you and Alexis," he interrupts, desperate to maintain control of the conversation. He wants to discuss Alexis, to correct his selfish disregard of their relationship and its importance to his daughter, and to ensure that Kate knows that nothing needs to change, not because of him. He's not ready to talk about anything else.

The fantasies he clung to still linger in the recesses of his mind, even though he knows that they were a by-product his delusion. He understands that Kate was living in a world in which a future for them wasn't a possibility, and that she was the one living in reality. He even understands her moving on, despite the ache in his chest that the concept incites, but he hasn't had to face any of it outside of Dr Capwell's office, and he doesn't want to discuss it with her – not yet.

He just wants both Kate and Alexis to know that they don't have to suppress their relationship, not for his sake.

"If you're calling less, or anything, I just… I don't want to change anything between you."

"Okay," she agrees, and he must sound more upset than he thinks because her voice is soft, assuring.

"Okay," he echoes, taking a deep breath. "Good."

"You sure you're alright?" She asks, so tentative in her inquiry.

"I'm okay," he repeats. "But I should go."

It feels too much like a balancing act, and he wants to end the conversation before something sends them over the edge.

"If you need anything, I'm here," she says.

"Thank you," he replies, even though he doesn't want to need anything from her, not when she's already done so much for Alexis. She has her own life now, one with a partner that isn't him, and he wants to respect that.

"Bye, Kate."

"Talk soon," she says, and he hears the hope in the sentiment, clear as anything, and he can't bring himself to contradict her.

"Talk soon."

* * *

He's used to the nightmares, by now.

They've plagued his dreams so consistently that he spends hours every night lying in bed, bracing himself for their inevitability, for the rush of adrenaline that forces him awake.

But the nightmares don't come.

Instead, he wakes to the sun streaming through the blinds and rousing him insistently.

He stumbles out to the kitchen, groggy and convinced he's still half asleep when he sees the time on the oven.

"Sleep well?"

Alexis' voice emanates from the living room, but he can't tear his eyes from the clock as he waits for the numbers to form a combination that makes sense.

"It's after ten?" He inquires, incredulous, and she nods in affirmation.

"You slept in," she says, trying to sound casual.

"I slept in."

He's stunned, still a little hazy from what was clearly too much sleep.

"No nightmares?" Alexis asks tentatively, afraid of being corrected, and he searches his memory for even a trace, but finds none.

"No nightmares," he confirms, amazed, but he is soon distracted by the knowing smile on her face.

"Alexis?"

"You spoke to Kate yesterday," she notes, avoiding his gaze.

He doesn't need to ask how she knows. The fact that Kate would tell her is something he should have realised sooner, but it comes as no surprise.

"I called her," he says. "I wanted to tell her that she doesn't have to feel awkward about her relationship with you. That it doesn't have to change, not because of me."

She doesn't meet his eye, and he murmurs her name, catching her attention.

"I mean it. I know I've been selfish, but I don't want to come between you. You don't have to remove her from conversation; you don't have to take every phone call upstairs. You don't have to keep things from me, I can handle it."

He needs her to understand, because fixing this is the only thing containing the guilt that threatens to consume him.

She nods, but her lips are pressed together as if she's holding back, and he can't decipher the reason.

* * *

It's a collective effort.

Alexis still takes her phone calls out of the room, but she talks about Kate, so they're making progress.

Suddenly items of Sammy's clothing become "the t-shirt Kate bought", and photos taken of Sammy are instantly sent to Kate, and with each passing day, he starts to get a very clear picture.

They're family.

He does his best to mention her name in casual conversation intermittently to demonstrate that it's okay. He can handle the reminder of Lydia, the reminder of the state of his relationship with Kate, the fact that she loves someone else now. If he can manage the nightmares that – while diminishing in frequency – have returned, he can handle a conversation.

They're eating dinner and silence falls, and he takes the opportunity to raise a question that has been in the back of his mind since he moved into a room that was distinctly hers.

"Does Kate visit often?"

There's a pause as Alexis looks to Elliot, who clears his throat.

"When she gets the chance. Special occasions, when she has time off, that kind of thing," he explains, his eyes on Alexis as he speaks.

They exchange silent glances that Castle can't decipher, but he doesn't comment, allowing Alexis to change the topic, and hoping that they'll get there in time.

* * *

He doesn't recognise the sound of his own phone.

He's reading in his room, and when he hears the default ringtone, it takes him a few moments to realise where the sound is coming from. Kate's name flashes across the screen, and he answers it almost on autopilot.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Castle. I hope it's okay that I called."

She seems hesitant, as if she expects him to hang up, but he's too overwhelmed by the sound of her voice to even consider it.

It's reminiscent of the past, answering the phone to hear her voice on the other end of the line, and he basks in the reminder of what used to be, wondering if she can hear the erratic thump of his heart over the phone. The urge to ask after her, to ask about her life is hard to ignore, but fear of her response keeps him silent.

Instead, he thinks of Alexis, and the way she's still uncomfortable talking to Kate on the phone in his presence, and the importance of forming some kind of friendship with Kate, for Alexis' sake.

"Of course," he murmurs, preparing to explain his theory about Alexis when she cuts him off.

"I need to tell you something. I don't want you to feel…" she exhales shortly, starts again. "I don't want anything, I just need you to know… Tim and I broke up."

He sifts through his memory for the name Tim, but apart from context, he has nothing to go on. "I couldn't marry him," she continues, and he remembers that ring on her finger, the way it cut into his palm, and he doesn't understand.

"Why?"

It doesn't make sense.

Even after so many years, he knows that she wouldn't have agreed to marry Tim if she didn't love him, if she didn't want to spend her life with him.

"Because I love you," she says, her voice clear, unwavering. "I always will, more than anything, and I couldn't… I couldn't marry him. Not even if this is all we ever have."

Her admission is too much to comprehend, as his perception shifts entirely.

He spent so long with Dr Capwell coming to terms with the fact that she moved on, that even though his reality remained static in that basement and he was able to dream of a future with her, her reality was one in which she never thought she'd see him again.

"You don't have to say anything," she adds. "I just wanted you to know. Alexis was going to tell you, but I wanted to do it myself."

Mention of Alexis snaps him from his thoughts, and he seizes the distraction.

"Would you tell me about Alexis? About her life?"

She's been there for all that he has missed, and while the guilt borders on overwhelming, he still wants to know everything.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know, Castle," she says, her tone soft and so accepting, and he blurts the first topic that comes to mind.

"Elliot's family."

"They're… lively," she says, considering. "Have you met them yet?"

He's surprised that Alexis didn't tell her about the dinner, and it only strengthens his resolve. He murmurs his affirmation, and Kate doesn't even question his pseudo-verbal answer.

"Patricia is like Elliot," she starts. "She's more reserved, and she'd do anything for you. Greg is young at heart, you'd- you should get on well, I would think."

She goes quiet and he doesn't say that the man she remembers is now nothing more than a memory, instead prompting her to continue. "Helen and Abigail?"

"They're a little self-involved. I think that's how Elliot came to be so generous, so willing to put everyone else first – he never had much of a choice as a kid. They won't really hear what you're saying unless it directly affects them, but they're good people, and Alexis likes them."

He's distracted by her assessments, silence stretching between them, and when he realises how long he's been quiet, he responds without thinking.

"You've spent a lot of time with them? Attended a lot of family dinners?" He regrets asking instantly, regrets the way the words taste bitter in his mouth, but he can't help it. He can see them all around that dinner table so clearly, and the combination of jealousy and guilt is potent.

"I wasn't trying to take your place," she says, her voice strangled and weak, and nothing like the Kate he remembers.

"No…"

He tries to tell her that it's not that, because it isn't. He isn't angry with her for all of the nights she spent getting to know this family, but he yearns to have been there too, learning about their quirks and coming to love them.

"I'm glad Alexis had you – has you," he presses out. "I just… I've missed so much. So much of her life, and I'm thankful that you were there, but I wish I'd have been too, and I… I should have been there," he trails off. He should have fought harder, shouldn't have given in so easily…

"No, Rick." Her tone is firm now, her voice strong. "You're not to blame, for any of it. I know it's been eight years, and I know… I know what you've lost, but you have the rest of Alexis' life to witness, to be a part of, and she is so grateful for that. You can't spend that time drowning in guilt. It wasn't your fault."

He hears her words again, the confession he has been trying to ignore by focusing on Alexis.

_Because I love you._

"Don't you blame me?"

The question slips out without warning, but he's too curious to rescind it. She ended an engagement, and she seems to know that even though he's here, they won't ever be the same, and he doesn't understand how she couldn't spite him for it.

He was the one in that basement, feeding into Lydia's delusions when he could have been fighting. He was the one hiding in fantasies of Kate instead of trying to get back to her.

"I blame her, Rick. I blame her for taking you." She pauses, and he hears her inhale over the phone. "I blamed myself, for a long time," she confesses. "For not finding you, for giving up… But you're here now because you did what you needed to to survive, and so did I. Thinking about what might have been… It doesn't do any good."

He lets her words sink in, the mirror to Alexis' assurances, but with the addition of Kate's acceptance of their reality, he feels the guilt begin to recede.

"Okay," he agrees softly, as much to ease her mind as to free his own.

"Okay."

* * *

He lies awake, too distracted by Kate to even consider sleep.

Her _I love you _replays on a loop, torturing him endlessly, even with her lack of expectations. His love for Kate is not something he's ever questioned, yet the thought of a relationship with her, of trying to rekindle what they used to have incites visions of Lydia that refuse to fade, and he curls in on himself, wondering if he'll ever be free of her.

* * *

He wrestles with the guilt.

He knows that it's baseless, that he has no reason to blame anyone other than Lydia, but it doesn't disappear overnight. It's a battle, reminding himself that he can't change the past, that it wasn't his fault, but he repeats the words like a mantra every time he feels it creep in. Sometimes he hears Alexis, sometimes Kate, but each time it is the voice of someone he feels guilty for failing reminding him that they don't blame him, and he shouldn't either.

Any reservations Alexis had in relation to Kate disappeared once he learned of the demise of Kate's relationship with her fiancé. His daughter is happy, and seeing it every day helps relieve his guilt until it is gone entirely.

* * *

As the guilt fades, anger fills the void with renewed ferocity.

Anger for the eight years Lydia took from him, anger at the way every relationship in his life has been irrevocably changed because of her.

He can handle it, until he thinks about his mother. Every time he's reminded that he'll never see her again, that Lydia stole that precious time, his whole body tightens in absolute rage.

Dr Capwell suggests physical exercise as an outlet, and even though he can't run like he wants to, his body too weak to cope with the exertion, it only fuels his anger as he walks furiously, pushing himself to the limit.

Alexis watches him every time he leaves the house, her eyes conveying concern so clearly she doesn't even need to voice it, but she lets him go.

He takes every ounce of frustration out on the pavement and when he returns home, sweaty and exhausted, he almost feels normal.

* * *

They're eating lunch when there's a knock on the door, and confused glances are passed between Elliot and Alexis, because this household is not one for unexpected guests, even on the weekend. Elliot is the one who stands to answer it, but Alexis' eyes follow his path, curiosity prevailing.

Almost ten minutes pass before footsteps approach, and Elliot returns with Helen by his side.

Elliot makes a poor excuse about he and Alexis both needing to check on Sammy, which is a blatant lie because Sammy will be asleep for at least another half hour, but Castle doesn't comment, instead turning to Helen as they're left alone.

An apology falls from her lips before he can even say hello, and she blushes as she meets his eye. It's been weeks since the meal they shared, weeks since she asked if he was Kate's ex-husband, and he doesn't understand why she's here now, apologising. In hindsight he can see that it was a simple mistake, a result of miscommunication and a strange situation, but before he can tell her that it's unnecessary, she's continuing.

"I wasn't thinking. Well I was, I was thinking about Kate, and how when we met Alexis just introduced her as _Kate_, and it wasn't until before the wedding that someone told me that she was connected to you…" she sighs, clearly struggling to find the right words. "People don't tell me things," she says. "Apparently I have a habit of blurting out things I shouldn't."

He smiles then, and he can't really hold this against her, because even he struggles to comprehend the bond between Alexis and Kate, which is apparently the root of her confusion.

"I was just thinking out loud. I'm sorry."

He brushes off her apology as she takes a seat, visibly relaxing.

"I wanted to clear the air before next week," she explains, and he realises that it's almost been a month, that next weekend will mean another family meal. "We're going to Abby's. I'd eat before you leave. I don't know what she's planning, but I can guarantee it won't be edible unless it's takeout."

He laughs, appreciating her unapologetic honesty, and at his reaction she does a double take, her eyes narrowing.

"Can I ask you something?"

He wants to prove that he can handle whatever their family considers to be normal, and he won't pass up the chance for a dry run, so he nods.

"You were held captive," she says carefully.

"Yes. Eight years. She held me captive for eight years."

It's the first time he's admitted it aloud outside Dr Capwell's office, and something akin to pride swells in his chest as Helen stares at him, stunned.

"Fuck."

He's waiting for her question, but she just looks at him, too dumbfounded to say anything more. He doesn't know whether it's the fact that he can admit it, or if it's only hitting her now, but she shakes her head, foregoing any questioning and reaching to squeeze his hand.

He revels in the fact that he is discussing it with someone he barely knows, and that he's handling it better than she is, breaking into a wide grin.

"Rick?"

Helen's confused by his reaction, but he's unable to explain the combination of excitement and sheer relief flooding his body at the progress so distinct that it's almost tangible. He feels lighter than he can ever remember, knowing that he is capable of talking about what Lydia did to him, and instead of the anger he has become so accustomed to, elation bubbles in his veins.

For the first time he knows he can face this, and it isn't going to break him.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Nic, thank you for taking the time to beta this, I truly appreciate it. **

_**Lord of Kavaka, **_**thank you ****for the cover art. **

**To everyone reading, thank you for the reviews, the follows and the favourites, and for the encouragement over on twitter and tumblr. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story.**

**I also want to warn you all that life is going to be a little hectic for me over the next few weeks – I'm moving interstate – so there may be a few extra days between chapters. However, I will do my best to update as quickly as possible :)**

**Twitter: l03l_**

**Tumblr: l03l**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**Kate**

* * *

**A/N: Picks up from Kate's POV at the end of chapter seven.**

* * *

She's combing through financial records when her phone rings, and her heart drops at the sight of the name that lights up the screen.

Alexis doesn't call during the day, not unless something's wrong.

She fumbles for the device with sweaty palms, leaving her desk for the increased privacy of the break room and trying to deduce the reason for the call.

They've all been adjusting.

Alexis and Castle have been learning how to navigate this new version of their father-daughter relationship while she's been moving into her new apartment, but she thought that things were going well.

Castle has been improving, and he and Alexis have been finding their way after their initial difficulties. At least, that's what she last heard, and she answers the phone afraid to learn that something has changed.

"Alexis?"

Her greeting is ignored, and Alexis chokes out words she never imagined could have negative implications.

"He's remembering everything, Kate."

She doesn't understand. She was under the impression that correcting his memory would be a good thing, but Alexis' tone suggests otherwise.

"He's been… off, these last few days. He hasn't been sleeping well; he's been skittish and moody… I kept telling myself I was overreacting, because I didn't want to admit that he might be getting worse, but I asked him about it this morning and all he said was that he remembers everything."

The absence of Alexis' usual positivity is a crippling blow, and Kate blinks away the tears that form in the corner of her eyes.

"He was so scared, Kate. All I did was ask him how he's been sleeping…" she trails off. "I've never seen him so terrified."

The broken bones that healed properly, the implication that Lydia took care of him… All the facts that never quite made sense are now reminders that he created his delusions for a reason.

"He won't talk to me about it."

She hears the helplessness in Alexis' voice and knows that all she needs is reassurance that she's doing the right thing in letting him work through this on his own. After confirming that he's still seeing his therapist, that he has someone to talk to, she assures Alexis that she's doing all she can.

The repeated reminder of the trauma he suffered makes her lungs tighten, and she tries to breathe through the knowledge that his memories have him so unspeakably terrified.

She just started believing Dr Burke's assurance that no one is at fault for what happened. Now her brain won't stop producing possibilities of all that Castle might have endured, and the flicker of guilt reignites because she is the reason he spent eight years in that prison.

She's the one who gave up on him.

* * *

It's a reflex, calling Dr Burke's office when her stomach is churning and she can't think straight.

She isn't able to see him until the end of the day, and by then she can almost articulate the reason for the turmoil.

She starts at the beginning, explaining every doubt that Alexis' call incited, the fact that all the work she's done in this room is starting to feel like a lie, because surely in giving up she traded her own sanity for Castle's.

Dr Burke is patient, his face impassive as he waits for her to finish. It's only then that he speaks, requesting that she state exactly what happened the day she stopped looking for Castle.

His words are familiar – too familiar – and the realisation that this isn't the first time they've had this conversation lands like a punch to the gut.

She relays every detail of that day, from the absolute fear in Alexis' eyes to the way she felt the mark on her throat tightening inexplicably with every breath, and she loses track of time as she repaints the memory.

When she's finished she can see it clearly, and Dr Burke doesn't have to tell her that it was never one or the other – she knows. If she hadn't let the case go, she probably wouldn't be here, and Castle still would have endured what he did.

She had no leads. Nothing. She wouldn't have found him any sooner.

She leaves more at peace with the notion than she's ever been, inhaling deeply as she remembers that he's here now.

They both are.

* * *

She settles into her new apartment slowly, and starts to remember how to be on her own.

Not that she's lonely.

Part of her yearns for any kind of relationship with Castle, but she knows that she can survive without it, that the other pieces of her life are enough.

Lanie isn't going anywhere, something she makes blatantly clear at every given opportunity, and the boys are supportive in their own way. Ryan makes a habit of inviting her to join Jenny and the kids for dinner, and Espo takes to accompanying her at the gym, inquiring casually about how she's doing, and pretending he's not looking out for her.

She spends a couple of nights a week with her father, speaks to Alexis regularly, and remembers that she can be perfectly content, even if her heart belongs to someone that can't give his in return.

* * *

Weeks pass with the ease of routine, and Alexis keeps her updated on Castle amongst the usual stories of Sammy and Elliot.

He's still struggling with nightmares he won't discuss – much to Alexis' frustration – but they both know it takes time.

He no longer needs the wheelchair, and she tells Alexis that the rest will come.

She isn't used to being the hopeful one, but it's easier than she expects, and as the assurances fall past her lips, she almost believes them.

* * *

When Alexis insisted upon giving her Castle's number "just in case", she saved it and refused to give it any further thought, afraid to nurture hope that had no basis in reality. Alexis' recent concerns gave her no reason to think that he'd contact her, and when her phone flashes with his name, her complete lack of anticipation has her heart thumping in her chest uncontrollably.

She's utterly unprepared to hear his voice.

He sounds so much like _Castle_, like the man she knew and not the one in the hospital bed that couldn't hold her gaze, that she can barely get words out.

He's similarly stunned, and it puts her at ease as he steers the conversation towards Alexis.

She follows his lead, replying instinctively, too distracted by him – his voice, that he called in the first place – to overthink her responses.

She tries to assuage the guilt in his words as he thanks her for looking out for Alexis, but he doesn't let her linger, focusing on what was clearly his reason for calling.

"I don't want to come between you and Alexis."

There's so much she wants to tell him, so much he needs to know, and while she can't bring herself to break this fragile olive branch by raising topics he is trying to avoid, when the conversation comes to an end she needs to know that this won't be the only time they speak.

She doesn't realise how doubtful she is that he'll agree until he repeats her words.

"Talk soon."

The corner of her heart that dares to hope jolts to life with unprecedented ferocity, and hope spreads like wildfire through her veins.

* * *

She allows herself a few moments of bliss, revelling in the fact that they conversed, before she calls Alexis and asks the question she hasn't wanted to consider.

"Why was he so adamant that he didn't want to change anything between us?"

Alexis sighs, filling in blanks Kate didn't know she was missing.

"We haven't talked about you – since we got home."

Alexis seems ashamed to admit it, explaining that she wasn't sure Castle could handle it after the way he reacted to her in the hospital, and that she didn't want to risk it.

When she told Alexis that she wanted to be the one to inform Castle of her breakup with Tim, Alexis suggested waiting until he was in a better place to hear from her. She agreed because she wanted a chance to properly explain it to him, and she trusted Alexis' assessment.

She didn't realise that he couldn't stand even the mention of her name, and in knowing that Alexis felt the need to conceal it from her, she sees Castle's concerns from a new perspective.

"You don't have to hide things from me," she says. "I can handle it."

She can.

She's strong enough now to hear the truth, even if she wasn't before, and she won't let Alexis cause herself extra stress in an attempt to protect her.

"I know, I just –"

The subsequent realisation is swift, and she interrupts Alexis as she gives it a voice.

"You don't have to hide things from him either, not for me."

* * *

It takes her longer than she intends to prepare for the conversation.

Her current relationship with Castle consists of a single phone call about Alexis and an enormous amount of optimism on her part, and she doesn't want to ruin it.

Her paranoia that Alexis was his only reason for reaching out doesn't help either, but ultimately she remembers his confirmation that they'll talk soon and reminds herself that she wants to be the one to tell him about the disintegration of her relationship with Tim.

She has the entire conversation planned. Every sentence, every word she'll use to explain that she's no longer engaged, that she and Tim broke it off because she loves him, but that it isn't his fault and she doesn't expect anything from him.

Then he answers the phone.

At the sound of his voice, the intricacies of all that she's trying to express elude her, and she blurts out what she remembers, hoping to appear calmer than she feels.

She spent hours agonising over every possible response he could have to the words "I couldn't marry him", but she's still unprepared for the mix of confusion and shock in his tone when he asks "_why?"_

She takes the time to collect herself, to ignore the burning behind her eyes at his assumption that the place he held in her heart disappeared when he did, and to explain clearly that she loves him, that she always will, even if they have nothing more than this tentative promise of a friendship.

It's something she's spent hours in therapy coming to terms with, and she'd be proud of the way she says it without breaking if she weren't so focused on his reaction, the memory of him pleading "_go away, please go away" _a taunting whisper in her ears.

When he doesn't respond, she's quick to assure him that it's okay. She needed him to know the truth, needed to clear the air for Alexis as well as herself, but if he's about to dispute her statement that they have _something, _she doesn't want to know.

Hope might be treacherous, but it's all she has, and she can't lose it.

She expects him to let the exchange reach its natural end, but instead he revives it with the one topic that has yet to cause tension between them.

"Would you tell me about Alexis? About her life?"

He sounds so regretful that she finds herself desperate to tell him everything he wants to know.

She lets him dictate the topic, and while she's surprised by his choice of Alexis' in-laws, she tries not to show it. Instead, she throws herself into the conversation, the familiarity of talking to him washing over her and pushing them through any awkward lulls.

The moment he mentions the monthly family dinner, she knows she's missing something, but she's distracted by the insinuation that she took his place in their family because it _hurts_. It took years for her to feel comfortable being such a significant part of Alexis' life without him by her side, and old insecurities flare as she attempts to explain that she wasn't trying to replace him.

"…I should have been there."

Her own thoughts are quickly drowned out by the guilt in his words, guilt that she won't let fester, because there is no interpretation of the last eight years in which he is at fault for his own captivity.

That he thinks _she_ could blame him is a knife to her already fractured heart, and she foregoes the assertive approach, instead falling back on quiet honesty.

She tells him that she blames Lydia, that while she spent a long time blaming herself, she now understands that she isn't at fault for surviving, and neither is he.

In the silence that falls, any part of her that still doubted her lack of culpability slips away, and when she hears his soft acceptance in a single word, the relief is overwhelming.

"Okay."

* * *

In the weeks that follow, she notices the change in Alexis, even over the phone.

Alexis is more relaxed, and together they form a new normal, one where she exchanges greetings with Castle through Alexis when he's in the room, just as she does Elliot.

She hasn't spoken to Castle since she told him she and Tim ended their engagement – she hasn't wanted to pressure him to respond, but there's an openness present between them that wasn't there before, and it's enough for now.

* * *

She's speechless when she calls Alexis and Castle answers.

"Hey, Kate, Alexis is upstairs, she'll be down in a minute."

He sounds so casual that it takes her a moment to comprehend his words before she even thinks to reply.

"How are you doing?" She manages, trying to appear half as relaxed as him and failing miserably.

"I'm…" he sighs. "I'm running," he says, the contrasting honesty in his tone exposing his previous upbeat greeting as a facade.

She blinks, tries to reconcile the memory of the man who couldn't stand on his own with someone who claims to be running, and attempts to understand exactly what he means.

"Well, I'm trying to," he continues, laughing dryly. "I guess some days are better than others."

"The bad days will get further apart," she says softly, unthinking.

It's so easy with him, even with so much between them. Every time they speak he sounds more like the man she knew, and everything else fades into the background.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirms. "You know you can call me, if you want to talk," she says, but it comes across as more of a question than a reminder.

"Yeah, you too," he murmurs. "Alexis is here. Talk soon." He ends the conversation abruptly, and she's not even sure he's still on the line when she responds, echoing the hopeful sentiment that concluded their first phone call.

"Talk soon."

* * *

She shouldn't be so afraid.

She was less nervous when she called him last time, but then she had an actual reason to contact him, something other than an insatiable need to hear his voice, to see how he's doing.

While Alexis' concern over his state of mind has waned over the last couple of weeks, it is ever-present, and she can no longer control her need to check in, to hear from him directly.

She holds her breath as she waits for him to answer, and when he does she wonders briefly if she's called the wrong number.

He sounds … happy. Giddy, even, and she's too stunned to utter more than his name.

"Castle?"

"Kate." She can almost see the broad grin that she's sure paints his face, if his intonation is any indication.

"I want to tell you something," he starts, clearly realising that his mood requires an explanation.

"This is going to sound stupid," he says, but he's so excited, so much like the man she used to know, whose enthusiasm for the littlest things would always make her smile, and she feels her own heart rate pick up in response.

"No," she assures him. "I'm sure it's not stupid."

He clears his throat, dispensing with the majority of the excitement before speaking.

"I was held captive. For eight years, Lydia held me captive."

He says it with such acceptance that it makes her feel light-headed, and she falls back onto the couch, drawing her knees up to her chin.

"Kate?"

She remembers seeing him in that hospital, so withdrawn and broken and _frustrated_, remembers him pushing her away repeatedly, Alexis' words a painful soundtrack to the memory.

_He thinks it was you. _

She can't believe that he's now stating it so openly, that he's so at ease with the fact.

"Rick."

Her voice sounds weak, the tears in her eyes clogging her throat, and she wishes she could muster some kind of reassurance, something – anything – to say, but she can't.

"It's not much," he adds, and she shakes her head vehemently even though he can't see it.

"It's everything," she disagrees.

When he left New York without so much as a goodbye, she never imagined they'd get this far.

"I'm so proud of you," she presses out.

"Thank you," he returns, the weight of the exchange not lost on him either.

"Anyway, you called me?" He inquires, and she's so lost in the magnitude of what just occurred that she answers without thinking.

"I just wanted to hear your voice."

The silence returns, and she wants to gloss over it, wants to fill the void with something about Alexis, because this is too much too soon, clearly, but now words refuse to leave her mouth.

"I'm glad you called," he says, and she expels a nervous breath. "You were right."

She hears his hesitance and waits for him to continue, even as her curiosity piques.

"The bad days are getting further apart."

* * *

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	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**Rick**

* * *

He can't remember the last time he felt like this.

The elation combined with absolute hope that everything will be okay – it's almost overwhelming.

He thought it felt good to speak about what happened to him with Helen, but this…

Somehow Kate makes everything more.

He hangs up the phone with a smile stretching his lips, their conversation replaying through his mind.

_It's everything._

He discussed Helen's visit with Alexis and Elliot, saw the pride in Alexis' eyes at his ability to talk about his captivity without breaking down, but it's different with Kate.

Everything's different with Kate.

_I'm so proud of you._

She was somehow aware of how much it meant to him, to be able to tell her that he knew Lydia held him against his will, to say it aloud.

He didn't tell her how monumental it felt, he even tried to downplay it, but she _knew_.

Alexis was happy before, but when he glances in her direction he sees that her grin is as wide as his. Her eyes are alight with hope, and he doesn't quite understand.

"I'm glad you and Kate are getting along," she explains. "That you're getting back to the way you were."

"Alexis…"

He stops her reluctantly, because she looks so hopeful. He hates taking that away, but he can't carry her expectations on his shoulders, not if they're unrealistic.

"I don't mean-" Alexis starts, quick to clarify. "I just want you both to be happy."

He nods, grateful that she understands, that he doesn't have to explain to her that while he and Kate are in contact, while they're building a friendship, it won't ever be the way it was before.

He's not the same person he was eight years ago, and neither is Kate. He's learning to accept it, learning to accept all that happened and the fact that his future won't ever be what he imagined, and that that's okay.

His anger towards Lydia still lingers, but it fades with each day, each smile, each victory.

He's getting there.

* * *

Alexis is more anxious about his second family dinner than he is.

He's looking forward to it.

He wants to get to know Elliot's family better, and he's confident that he can handle anything they might unintentionally throw at him.

There's no reason to be nervous.

They're the last to arrive, and when the doorbell rings after they've all been seated Abby stands, announcing that she ordered Thai food for dinner with a playful smile on her face.

A collective sigh of relief emanates throughout the room, which lightens the mood instantly, inciting anecdotes of previous meals, all starring Abby.

She takes the teasing in stride, tossing back stories of other culinary disasters as she serves out the food, and he's still laughing over the infamous mac and cheese debacle when Abby turns to him and asks if he likes to cook. When he answers in the affirmative, Alexis grins, detailing the adventurous recipes he created over the course of her childhood with startling specificity.

He's halfway through arguing the culinary integrity of the smorlette when he realises – this almost feels natural.

Everyone's watching him, their expressions at various degrees of amused and sceptical, and he's leading the conversation with an ease he never thought possible a month ago.

It feels as if they've done this for years.

* * *

They get home early, and when Alexis and Elliot sit down to watch a movie after putting Sammy to bed, he excuses himself, returning to his room.

He no longer second-guesses his desire to speak to Kate.

He's still nervous, but each conversation bridges the gap between them, eliminates the tentativeness and leaves him that much more hopeful that everything will be okay.

He wants to tell her about the meal, about the feeling of family that – while new and delicate – was present and unmistakable. He wants to tell her about Helen's new boyfriend and the supposed interrogation that is set to occur next month when she introduces him to the family, he wants to hear about similar encounters in the past.

He just wants to talk to her.

She answers the phone almost immediately but her greeting is distinctly laced with sleep. He grimaces, remembering the time difference.

"I'm sorry, I'll call back," he apologises, prepared to hang up, but she stops him.

"No," she says, sounding more awake already. "It's okay. What's up?"

"We went to Abby's for dinner tonight," he begins, paranoid that simply wanting to chat isn't a good enough reason to wake her up.

"Still hungry?" She interrupts, laughing softly and making his anxiety disappear in a heartbeat.

"She ordered in," he answers, unable to mask his amusement.

"Lucky you. How is everyone?"

"Good. Helen has a new boyfriend, she's bringing him next time. I'm told it will be an entertaining night?"

Her laugh is melodic and carefree. "Without a doubt. I remember the first family dinner Alexis attended…" she trails off, and it takes him a moment to realise that she's trying to gauge his reaction before she continues.

But rather than the crippling mix of regret and guilt that he's used to, the mention of another missed moment in Alexis' life evokes only a manageable twinge of sadness.

"What happened?"

"She called me from the bathroom not even twenty minutes in," Kate says, the amusement in her tone assuaging any belated concern he has for his daughter.

"They bombarded her with questions and she freaked out a little bit. If you ask Elliot he'll tell you that she handled it all perfectly. She was just so worried about making a good impression that she got overwhelmed."

He's sure she impressed them adequately, given the way they've accepted her as a part of the family.

"It's all just friendly hazing. They have a little too much fun with it. I know Alexis enjoys being on the other side of it now."

He chuckles, remembering her gleeful reaction to the news of Helen's boyfriend.

"I assume you appropriately vetted Elliot?"

He finds himself strangely at peace with the fact that he never got the chance to do so himself, and it only furthers his curiosity as to what occurred in his absence.

"Didn't need to," Kate replies. "He made her smile – he showed her that she could be happy when she didn't believe it possible. He was patient with her."

Her tone is too thoughtful, and it all hits a little too close to home. In her silence he can hear what she's thinking, and it's too much.

He can handle stories of Alexis, tales of what he missed, but Kate…

Discussing what they had only reminds him that while his love for her is unwavering, she and Lydia are invariably intertwined.

He no longer confuses them, he knows reality from the story he created, and he can separate his feelings for each of them, yet the concept of anything more than a friendship with Kate triggers memories of Lydia, memories he'd prefer not to dwell on.

"Do you have work in the morning?"

He changes the topic, and her response serves as an immediate distraction.

"Espo has me canvassing," she affirms.

"Espo has _you_ canvassing?" He repeats, convinced that she's tired, that she's confused, because otherwise…

He never really considered that her job might have changed over the last eight years. He just assumed it to be the same as he remembers, the same whiteboard, the same team, the same dynamic, even in his absence.

"I'm not…" she begins, cutting herself off and trying again. "Espo's in charge now, technically. We still work together, but it's more of a team effort."

"What happened?"

The question slips out before he has a chance to consider that it might upset her.

"It was my own fault," she says, seemingly unfazed. "I was a mess after you disappeared, Castle. I could handle it in the beginning, when I had a case to work. But as time passed, as leads became non-existent and everyone started moving on… I was so focused on the end result that I let it blind me. I made a mistake."

He's hanging on her every word, dread seeping through his entire body at the all too familiar image of Kate consumed by her work, the potential consequences.

"I found Jerry Tyson, and I let him get away. I was so desperate to find you, so desperate for him to lead me to you that I was sloppy. I was stupid."

She lets out a breath, and he wants to say something reassuring, but he can't find the words, too caught up in the story.

"They already thought I was a loose cannon. A liability. I was lucky to keep my job. Alexis found me later that night: she convinced me that I had to stop."

He feels not even a trace of anger, not at his daughter nor Kate for not being able to find him sooner, because he can see it too clearly.

He remembers Kate working her mother's case. He has no doubt that she would have done everything she could to find him, regardless of the risk. He recalls vividly how terrified he was that she was going to get herself killed, and he knows Alexis would have had good reason to ask her to stop.

What he struggles to comprehend is how Alexis managed to get through to her, but before he can find a way to ask, Kate answers his question.

"She told me that she couldn't lose me, too."

She inhales quietly, and he can hear his own heart thump against his ribs.

"You don't know how many times I said that to my dad," she says, her voice almost inaudible. "I didn't realise what I was doing to her."

Her words make his chest tighten, his blood run cold.

The thought of his daughter so upset, so alone, the thought of Kate so self-destructive.

"It's not your fault," she returns, emphatic.

"I know."

It's an automatic response, but when he hears his words echo in the subsequent silence, he realises that it's true.

* * *

His sessions with Dr Capwell become progressively less draining as he finds it easier to voice all that has happened to him. Now that he can discuss it outside of the therapist's office, doing so within the safety of those four walls isn't nearly as daunting.

It still comes as a surprise when Dr Capwell suggests decreasing his number of appointments.

He's reeling when he gets into the car, buckling his seat belt before looking to Alexis, who raises an eyebrow at his mood.

"Dr Capwell thinks I'm doing well. That I can go down to two sessions a week."

Alexis' jaw drops but she recovers well, leaning across to squeeze his shoulders in a gesture that no longer makes him feel confined.

"That's incredible, dad. We should celebrate."

"We should," he agrees, smiling as she proposes stopping for lunch on the way home.

He loves this, the time with his daughter following therapy. Knowing that no matter what happens in that room she'll be there when it's over, the routine of grabbing a coffee or a meal together after the session, depending on the day.

The normality.

* * *

It's not as if he's been avoiding the conversation.

He just wants to get it right.

He wants Alexis to know she can ask him about it, if she needs to, but he doesn't want to hurt her with the reminder.

She still tiptoes around the subject of his captivity, even though he raised it following his visit from Helen, and while he's aware that she may have her own reasons for doing so, she should know that _he's_ okay with it.

"I want you to know that you can ask me about it," he starts, catching both himself and Alexis off guard with the topic but diving right in. "What happened to me. I'm not afraid of it."

She nods, lowering herself to the couch as he tries to explain further.

It's not like it was before, and he needs her to understand.

He still has nightmares, but he's not afraid to close his eyes.

Some times he makes it through the night without waking once; some mornings he wakes without memory of a nightmare.

It's different.

"I don't know what to ask," Alexis admits. "I'm not sure I really want to know."

He nods, tries to appear reassuring.

He didn't expect questions. He didn't think that she'd demand retelling every moment he spent in Lydia's control.

But she knows she can ask.

"Can I ask _you_ something?" He wonders, his conversation with Kate fresh in his mind. "About Kate?"

"Of course."

"You were the one who convinced her to stop looking for me," he states, leading with what he already knows.

Kate was candid but his curiosity is insistent, and he realises too late that Alexis took his words the wrong way.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, breaking apart before his eyes.

"No," he interrupts, scrabbling to make this right, because he doesn't hold her accountable for the length of his captivity, and she can't believe that he does.

"I don't blame you," he reiterates, leaving no room for misinterpretation. "I've talked about it with Kate, and I guess I'm just curious as to your side of the story. How you convinced her, what was different about that day."

Alexis nods, slowly pulling herself together.

"She was scaring me," Alexis admits. "I mean, we were all trying to get through it, trying to move on, figure out what life was without you, but Kate… She didn't care for her own life. I was sure that she was convinced that you were dead, and all she wanted was answers before she joined you."

He knows Kate's version of events, yet the direct nature of the words hit with full force. He inhales deeply, tries to force air into his suddenly uncooperative lungs, and focuses on the knowledge that she's okay now – they all are.

"I'll never forget that night. I didn't expect… I can still see the crazed look on her face…" Alexis trails off, her eyes glazing over with the memory.

"She had no clue as to who had taken you, she'd been suspended, and all of her friends were telling her to let it go, that you were gone."

The second time around it still pains him to hear, and he wonders why he's so compelled to know the details.

"I told her you were gone," Alexis confesses, her voice small, and he eliminates all distance between them, draws his daughter into his arms.

"It's okay," he murmurs, finds that it is. He can't imagine how they felt – he certainly can't fault them for finding a way to cope.

"I'm glad you moved on," he whispers. "If you hadn't found a way to put it behind you, you wouldn't have this. You wouldn't have Elliot, you wouldn't have Sammy. I wouldn't change any of it."

"Even Kate?" She wonders, more stunned by the conviction in his voice than he is.

Visions of Kate and the remnants of their relationship blur with the way he always imagined their future, but he doesn't falter.

"Even Kate."

Because mere months ago, he couldn't look her in the eye without dissolving into a panic, and now they're forming a friendship, one that is new and yet so familiar.

Because he has learned to hope, and it has him believing that this is only the beginning.

* * *

His phone calls with Kate become such an intrinsic part of his life that when they go a couple of days without speaking, he almost aches with the need to call her.

They mostly discuss details of their day-to-day lives – rarely do they broach topics that make his heart rate quicken – but she still understands him in a way no one else does.

Even after all the time that has passed, even though they've changed, he finds that fundamentally, they're the same when they're together.

She's telling him about Esposito babysitting the Ryan girls and the fact that he's absolutely smitten when the need to see her sparks.

Her laughter is contagious, and he can envisage her grin, the one that can enchant him in seconds, and he is no longer content with mere phone calls.

He feels lighter when he talks to her – happier.

She makes him smile, just as she always did, and he knows it's no coincidence that he sleeps better if he speaks to her during the day.

"I was wondering," he begins, his throat dry as he acts on a thought that has only been hovering in his periphery until now. "I'd love to see you."

It's an inelegant invitation, one that doesn't explain that he still can't face New York, but he hears her breath hitch and he knows that she realises what he's saying. "I don't mean right way, I'm sure you have work, and other commitments –" he hedges, giving her every possible out in order to ensure that she doesn't feel obligated.

"No," she interjects, quick to disagree. "I mean I do, but I can get time off. I'd love you see you, too."

He hears the tremor in her voice, as if she's afraid he'll take it back even though it was his suggestion. He's grateful that he's not the only one who feels nervous.

"Okay," he says, a grin forming with the knowledge that they're on the same page. "I can't wait."

* * *

He doesn't expect it to happen so quickly.

He assumed it would be months before she could get away from work, before any kind of plan would be set in motion, but two days after their conversation she's calling him about flights, and suddenly Alexis is counting down the days.

Fifteen days until she's _here_.

He wonders if seeing her might make the stubborn part of his brain realise that Lydia has nothing to do with his feelings for Kate, that he doesn't need the reminder of his past every time he contemplates his future, but it's overshadowed by his nervous excitement.

He envies his daughter and her pure anticipation, because despite everything, part of him is still irrationally afraid.

That seeing Kate will remind him of Lydia, instead of allowing him to set them apart once and for all. That she'll see his scars and not the man he's become in spite of them. That it will adversely change their friendship, the one they've worked so hard to build.

But one phone call to her calms his paranoia, reminds him why he suggested she visit in the first place.

He's desperate to see her.

* * *

Sammy's looking at him as if he's crazy, which is not exactly a good sign.

He'll admit he might be freaking out a little bit.

Kate's on a plane and Alexis is driving out to the airport, and he's watching Sammy until Elliot gets home and okay, he could be freaking out a lot.

It's only just hitting him that in less than two hours she'll be here.

She offered to stay at a hotel to make it easier for everybody, but he knows that he inhabits what used to be her room, and he didn't want to force her out of the house too. Not when he knows he can handle seeing her everyday.

He's almost looking forward to it.

Well, he would be, if he could get his nerves under control.

The door opens and he turns to see Elliot enter, a reassuring smile on his face. Sammy abandons his toys, crawling towards the sound of Elliot's voice, and Elliot grins, his attention on his son as he picks him up, chatting animatedly.

After a few minutes Sammy is wriggling for his freedom, and Elliot chuckles, setting him down.

"How was he?" Elliot inquires, his eyes on Sammy as Castle relishes in the conversational nature of the question.

Although it's not the first time he has looked after Sammy without Elliot or Alexis present, it's still new, and he wouldn't blame Elliot for being apprehensive or concerned. But instead Elliot is entirely trusting, and it's exactly what he needs.

"Good," he responds, smiling at Sammy, who appears completely oblivious to their conversation, entranced by the toys that litter the living room floor. "But I think he knows I'm losing it," Castle jokes.

"Rick," Elliot says, his tone quietly demanding attention. "You're fine. There's nothing for you to be worried about. You've come so far, and Kate's going to be so happy for you."

Castle blinks at his son-in-law, speechless. Elliot doesn't waste words unless he believes them to be true and worth voicing.

"Thanks."

Elliot nods, predictably brushing off any kind of appreciation, and Castle takes a deep breath as he hears movement at the front door.

He can do this.

When the door opens there's a flurry of movement, Elliot lifting Sammy into his arms, Alexis wheeling Kate's suitcase towards the stairs, but he only sees her.

Kate's eyes spark the moment they meet his, and his nerves fade instantly.

She's twisting her hands and her posture is tense, but she's still so undeniably _Kate_.

She's still the woman he wants to talk to every night; she's still the woman who knows how to make him feel as though everything will be okay.

It washes over him now, even without words.

He grins as he moves instinctively towards her, but her smile is muted, and he understands why she's apprehensive.

The days he spent in the hospital are mostly a blur, but he remembers pushing her away time and again, unable to face all that her presence forced him to consider.

He remembers the struggle it was to even meet her gaze. Now he can't look away.

This time, he reaches for her.

* * *

**A/N: ****Nic, thank you for being a brilliant beta, you are wonderful :)**

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	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**Kate**

* * *

The magnitude of his progress doesn't quite sink in until he asks about the changes to her job, and she isn't hesitant to tell him.

Mere weeks ago she would have been worried that it might further his guilt, hearing how she reacted to his disappearance, how it affected her work, her relationships.

Now she knows he can handle it, and she only struggles to put it into words because she doesn't like admitting aloud how weak she was, especially when Alexis needed her.

He's different now – stronger.

It's evident in the lightness of his tone, his ability to laugh with her, to joke with her.

It sends her flying, that after so much trauma, so much time, he's still Castle.

* * *

Weeks pass quickly, the frequency of her phone calls with Castle only increasing.

Their conversations are effortless; the ease with which they interact so familiar that at times her heart aches with nostalgia.

She's chatting to him about Ryan's daughters when he interrupts, his words making her breath catch.

"_I'd love to see you." _

Somehow she manages to keep it together long enough to stop him from taking it back in a fit of babbling nervousness.

She echoes his sentiments, ensuring he knows that she feels the same way even though it goes without saying at this point. She wants nothing more than to see him, to have something more than phone calls.

When she hangs up hope quickly snowballs, and she fights to control the optimistic voice in her head.

The invitation might be tangible evidence of how far he's come, but that's all it is. That's all she can believe until she sees him, until he gives her reason to think otherwise.

She calls Alexis, repeating the entire conversation almost word for word. It's cathartic, talking it through, and Alexis is unbelievably patient. She goes from excitement to paranoia that he didn't mean for it to be an invitation, to concern that it's too much too soon. Eventually she circles back to tentative hopefulness, needing affirmation.

"I'm sure he meant it," Alexis says. "I think it's a great idea – it'll be good for both of you."

The statement lifts a weight from her shoulders, allows her to contemplate the trip as a tangible possibility.

When they left New York she wasn't sure if she'd ever be able to visit, if her relationship with Alexis would be affected indefinitely by Castle's inability to acknowledge her, and now…

Now she's going to see him.

* * *

The logistics fall into place with unexpected speed, preventing her from overthinking her decision to go.

It feels like fate – in a really screwed up kind of way – that she didn't use her vacation days when Sammy was born, because now she has the additional time to spend with all four of them.

She calls Castle when she's one click away from confirming the flights, listening for any trace of regret in his tone.

He's surprised at how fast it all came together, maybe a little nervous, but he's as excited by the prospect as she is, so she books it before she has second thoughts.

His voice is a soft encouragement on the other end of the line as she stares blankly at the confirmation email.

It's really happening.

* * *

Days pass before she gives in to the fact that she needs talk to Castle about where she's going to stay.

Alexis is a vocal advocate for the futon in their home office, but she wants to know what he's thinking.

She's not sure if he's even considered it. She's not averse to finding a hotel nearby if it will make him more comfortable, but she won't make the decision without him.

There's a nervous air to the conversation before she even brings it up, her imminent arrival changing their rhythm ever so slightly.

She listens to him detail his day, grinning as he explains the ways in which life has changed since Sammy began crawling.

"What's on your mind, Kate?"

She's too quiet, too distracted, and he's kind in his inquiry.

"Thinking about the trip, where I'm going to stay."

He inhales audibly, and before he feels obligated to assure her that it's fine that she stay with them, she offers to book a hotel.

"You shouldn't have to do that."

"I don't mind."

She doesn't elaborate, allowing moments to pass in silence so that he can think about it and reply honestly, without fear of hurting her feelings.

"No, you should stay here."

"Are you sure?"

When he speaks again, his voice is clear – strong.

"I want you here."

* * *

She's jumpy.

She can't remember the last time she felt like this, the nervous energy actually making her tremor.

She was fine on the plane, but as she makes the familiar journey through the terminal in San Francisco, she has to clench her hands into fists to stop them from shaking. She paces as she waits for the baggage carousel to start moving, glancing towards the exit intermittently for Alexis.

It's only when she's tugged her bag off the conveyor belt that she catches a glimpse of Alexis, who is hanging back so she can extricate herself from the crowd of people surrounding the baggage carousel.

A smile stretches her lips as she embraces Alexis, her suitcase forgotten at her feet.

"It's so good to see you."

Even with her head a confused mess of anticipation, Alexis is a touchstone that reminds her that no matter what, she'll be okay.

"You look more nervous than he is," Alexis teases, enjoying this almost too much.

She digs an elbow in Alexis' ribs in retaliation, taking her bag and navigating towards the exit.

"I'm just saying, you should relax," Alexis continues. "He's doing well. You know he's doing well."

She does know he's doing well, that he isn't the man she remembers from the hospital, but the words are still comforting.

She flips through the photos on Alexis' phone as they drive, grinning at the multitude of images of her family. All of them feature Sammy, but so many include Castle looking every bit the proud grandfather, and it settles her errant nerves, seeing the difference in him now.

She pauses on a photo of the four of them, Elliot's arm extended to capture the whole group.

It takes her breath away, the sight of them all together after so many years of wishing it could be possible. After years of thinking Sammy would never meet his grandfather, that Alexis would never see her father again.

Alexis stops at a red light, glancing at the image with an understanding smile.

"Pretty incredible, huh?"

She presses her lips together, looking back at Alexis in agreement but unable to put it into words.

It's so much more than incredible.

* * *

The moment Alexis opens the front door, her gaze is drawn to him.

There's a hint of a twinkle in his eye that is so reminiscent of the man she knew, even with the weight of the last eight years etched in the lines framing his features.

He approaches her steadily and her nerves flare, the memories of him asking her to leave that hospital room flashing in her mind like a warning.

On the plane she was able to reason away her irrational fears, but now she doesn't have the time to breathe deeply and recall why she's being ridiculous.

Instead, she's frozen in place, preparing for him to beg her to go – again.

She clenches her teeth, tries to maintain tight control of her emotions and appear unfazed, but he sees through it, reading her with frightening accuracy, even after all this time.

It's _Castle_.

Castle, who knows her better than anyone, knows how to reassure her without a word.

His smile is warm and familiar as his hands reach for hers, silencing the voice in her head that speaks for her fears.

His fingers tangle with hers, their hands hanging between them as he waits for her.

It's easy then, after the calm that washes over her with his presence, the way the rest of the world fades away.

She slips her hands from his and steps closer, circling her arms around him in a tight hug.

"Hi," he murmurs, when she reluctantly pulls away from the embrace.

"Hi."

She volleys the greeting back, struggling to say much else when he's looking at her so intently.

"I'm glad you came."

She smiles, her cheeks warm.

It's Sammy – purportedly quiet Sammy – who breaks the moment with loud unintelligible babbling, reminding her that they're not alone.

She blinks, turning to the child and grinning at the way he squirms in his father's arms, grappling for her.

"Hey, Sam. Remember me?"

Elliot lets her take him, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Safe flight?"

She hums absentmindedly, her eyes on Sammy, holding him close.

"You're so big."

It's that much more remarkable in person, how much he's changed over the last few months. The way he now looks more like Elliot, even if the piercing blue eyes are all Castle.

"Growing like crazy."

Elliot's voice registers vaguely, but she's too entranced by Sammy to reply.

"Alexis once told me you weren't a baby person," Elliot says, teasing. She looks back to him, realising how long she has been enraptured by the child whose fingers are tangled in her hair.

She forces a smile, unwilling to expand on his comment when Castle's eyes are on hers and he's undoubtedly thinking the same thing she is.

That he was the one who made her think she could be a baby person.

She's grateful for the distraction when Alexis descends the stairs, explaining that everything is set up in the office for her.

"We're going to get started on dinner if you want to take a shower."

Elliot and Castle move into the kitchen, Alexis taking Sammy.

Usually she'd want to shower, to get rid of the distinct feeling of being on a plane that seems to linger hours after disembarking, but as she watches Elliot and Castle working together in the kitchen, Alexis holding her son, she dismisses the thought of escaping upstairs.

This is where she wants to be.

* * *

She unzips her suitcase, throwing it open before perching on the edge of the bed, too preoccupied by the last few hours to think about anything else.

He looks _good_.

He looks happy and healthy, and the joy – the relief – is heady.

"Sorry to kick you out of your room."

She stands quickly, spinning to face him with a laugh bubbling on her lips.

"That's okay."

"Try saying that after a night on this thing," he says, gesturing to the futon with derision, hovering in the doorway.

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"Okay," he sighs, overly dramatic. "I was going to offer you a trade, but if you're intent on sharing a wall with a seven month old…"

She laughs, shaking her head at his slightly forced effort at finding equilibrium in this new facet of their friendship.

"I knew what I was in for when I agreed to it," she reminds him. "I'm not going anywhere."

The intended playfulness of the words somehow disappears when she says it aloud, leaving the moment noticeably charged.

He doesn't falter, though, his fingers drumming a staccato pattern on the doorframe as he smiles softly.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

Castle's right – it isn't the most comfortable bed in the world. But she doesn't mind it.

She couldn't refuse his declaration of _I want you here_, and she doesn't regret it now.

Except for the fact that it's two in the morning and she can't sleep, but that might not be entirely because of the futon.

Her brain is spinning, simultaneously contemplating what tomorrow may hold while analysing all that happened today, and it's making her crazy.

Giving up on sleep, she tiptoes past Sammy's room and down the stairs, surprised to find the kitchen light already on.

"You alright?"

Elliot turns to face her when she reaches the landing, too perceptive.

"Yeah. I thought Sammy was sleeping through the night," she says, inquiring as to his reason for being awake.

"He is," Elliot shrugs. "My sleep pattern's still a mess. Your excuse?"

"Still wired, I guess. I didn't think past actually getting here."

She didn't realise it until she arrived, until the adrenaline waned and she considered what comes next.

"You're overthinking it."

She grins, taken aback by Elliot's ability to make every word he speaks sound like fact.

He raises an eyebrow, daring her to disagree.

"I'm not wrong," he says, jokingly smug.

"No, you're not."

"You remember the last time we saw each other?"

She scoffs at the implication, even though it's a rhetorical question. Every second of those few days is engraved in her memory.

"He's come a long way since then. So have you, Alexis – all of us. Even if this whole trip is awkward and a complete disaster, that won't dictate the rest of your relationship with him. Things change. Time passes and things change. At least you have the chance. Not long ago you never thought you'd see him again. Were you better off then?"

"No."

The answer is instinctual, and it doesn't change when silence gives her the chance to reconsider.

Regardless of what has happened since they found Castle, no matter what happens tomorrow, she's thankful to be living in a world in which he's alive.

Elliot watches it hit home, soft pride in his eyes as she relaxes visibly.

She exhales, her doubts and anxiety fading blissfully as Elliot squeezes her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Kate."

* * *

When she emerges the next morning Elliot is on his way out the door, and she waves goodbye as she takes a seat at the counter. Alexis follows him mere minutes later, with Sammy in her arms and a convenient excuse on her lips.

She looks across to Castle when the door closes, smirking.

"She's not exactly subtle," he says, his eyes crinkling with mirth as he twists back towards the coffee machine.

"Sammy does actually have a check up, she just scheduled it very carefully."

She laughs, contemplating her own breakfast when Castle turns, sliding a mug across to her.

It's a gesture so familiar that it leaves her breathless, only capable of whispering her thanks.

"Sometimes I still can't believe it."

She blinks distractedly, wondering if she missed something.

"What?"

"That Alexis is a mother. I see her with Sammy and it just… It blows me away."

He circles the counter, joining her.

"Me too."

She might have seen Alexis when she was pregnant, seen her with Sammy when they were in New York, but it still takes her by surprise now.

"He looks more and more like Elliot every day, but his personality… He's so much like Alexis."

"He used to look like you," she muses. "When I saw him last."

Castle goes quiet, his gaze dropping to his lap.

"A lot has changed since then," she laments, thrown by his withdrawal.

"I'm sorry," he blurts, making her eyes narrow in confusion as he hastens to explain. "For how I acted at the hospital, for treating you-"

"You don't have anything to apologise for," she interrupts, adamant. "What happened to you…" she trails off, because it doesn't need to be said. She doesn't blame him for the way he acted in the aftermath of being found, and he knows that. It's just part of who he is, being unable to let it go without apologising, even if it's wholly unnecessary.

"You can talk about it," he starts, unwavering. "I'd even like to tell you about what happened, if you'll hear it."

He's so composed that she can't do anything other than nod wordlessly.

Alexis is content with her limited knowledge of what he went through, which Kate understands, but there's an ingrained part of her that wants the closure that comes with knowing, even if it's painful.

"I woke in a farmhouse," he begins, and she can see how important it is to him, being able to share this with her, so she nods encouragingly.

"There were two people there, a man and a woman. I was disorientated, could barely think straight. I don't know who he was…" he pauses, inhaling slowly.

"Stuart Delart," she supplies, reaching for his hand. "He was her brother."

He nods, unsurprised by the information, his eyes focused on the way her hand covers his. When he doesn't pull away she doesn't move, and he clears his throat before continuing.

She can only remember two other times in her life that she's had such a violent reaction to _words_.

He's not specific, but he doesn't need to be, not as he explains what they did to him in that farmhouse, how it only eased when he started giving in – when he started believing the reality they manufactured.

His tone is detached, yet with every word her stomach rolls and she fights to refrain from revolting. He's watching her carefully, and she doesn't want to hurt him with her response to a trauma that he was the one to endure.

It only becomes harder to hear when he explains the sickening way Lydia cared for him, the life they shared against his will.

She swallows thickly, tries to prevent herself from breaking apart as visions of him at the mercy of this woman dance across her eyelids.

"Kate."

Her eyes are clamped shut, her mind focused on appearing as impassive as possible, but his voice draws her back.

She forces her eyes open and breathes deeply, anchored by the sight of him.

The way he's able to talk about it is overwhelming, especially knowing how much he has overcome since he woke up in that hospital bed.

That he's here now is all the more extraordinary.

"I'm sorry I couldn't find you sooner," she murmurs.

He shakes his head, his lips twisting wryly. It's the same kind of unnecessary apology as the one he offered her, but she has to say it, too. Even if neither of them is at fault, even if he knows she'd have done anything to prevent him from experiencing such pain.

It's in the past now, and they can't do anything to change it, but voicing the apology makes her feel better.

"He'll pay for what he did to you, Castle."

It's possibly as much of a comfort to her as it is him, that the people who did this aren't lurking, faceless. That it's over.

They can move on.

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Rick**

* * *

Kate has been in the house for less than an hour, and it already buzzes with her presence.

It's a little breathtaking, watching her sit beside Alexis at the dinner table, chatting happily like old friends reunited. He used to dream of them having a relationship like this, and seeing how close they are in person makes his heart soar.

It's different, having her here as opposed to on the other end of the phone. It's better in every way except the air of nervousness between them that wasn't present before, and he's determined not to let it linger. He makes the effort to say goodnight, to joke about the futon she's willingly sleeping on and regain the ease they shared over the phone.

He passes Alexis on his way downstairs, her eyes expressing more that she dares to speak aloud. She's curious and tentatively hopeful as to what the next few days might bring, but she won't push.

He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"Good night, sweetheart."

Her eyes narrow in confusion or appraisal, he's not sure, but it's only for a split second, before she's upstairs and he's halfway to his room, unable to control the joy that comes from them all simply being together.

* * *

He can't remember the last time he had even the slightest desire to write.

Now he can't shake it.

His fingers itch with stories desperate to be written, and he curls up in his room with the first notebook he finds, purging words too quickly for his brain to second-guess them.

It's like nothing he's ever written before.

There's no crime, no mystery.

Just her.

Just the flow of words that has no narrative structure, no formula of any kind, and he can't stop.

* * *

He barely gets any sleep, waking to the sound of footsteps on the stairs after only a few hours of slumber.

He wrote until his fingers cramped and his eyes fell shut, and once he's out of bed he goes straight for the coffee machine.

They congregate in the kitchen as they do every morning, Alexis explaining that Kate is probably still sleeping given the lack of sound coming from her room. He's sufficiently impressed, because they're not exactly a quiet household.

The commotion of breakfast is louder than dinner simply because Elliot needs to get to work, and the time constriction amplifies the craziness.

Sammy is even more lively than usual this morning, demanding everyone's attention so loudly it's a miracle anyone in the neighbourhood is still asleep.

"You look tired."

Alexis tries to make it sound like small talk, inserting the comment amongst the commotion of feeding Sammy and chatting to Elliot, but her concern radiates across the kitchen.

"Didn't get much sleep."

He shrugs it off, because it's no reason for her to worry. He isn't quite ready to admit that he's been writing, especially when he hasn't had the chance to read over his words in the morning light.

"You're alright?"

He almost rolls his eyes at the question. He's heard it too many times for one lifetime, and today it is utterly unnecessary.

"I'm great."

"Because I'm going to take Sammy to his appointment with Dr Spalding this morning."

Alexis tries her best to feign obliviousness to the apparent coincidence that gives him the morning alone with Kate, her eyes dancing around the kitchen.

"Yeah, okay," he chuckles, sharing a grin with Elliot over Alexis' shoulder.

For all her excitement about seeing Kate, he knows that Alexis wants to give them the chance to reconnect.

He just thought she might try to be subtle. Apparently not.

When Kate joins them, Elliot is running late for work and Alexis has Sammy ready to leave, her plan to give them the morning together not lost on Kate, either.

Any residual nervousness fades as he talks idly to Kate, but then she mentions the last time they saw each other in a throwaway comment, and it sparks a need to apologise. He treated her poorly at the hospital, and although he has every excuse, she needs to know that he's sorry.

He barely gets the words out before she cuts him off, reinforcing that he has no reason to apologise and leading him to an explanation of what exactly caused him to react the way he did. Why he couldn't look at her one minute and then needed desperately to know that she was okay the next.

He's only ever told Dr Capwell the specifics of what exactly happened during his time with Lydia. A few people have been allowed glimpses, but telling it all to someone he loves… it's new.

He doesn't have trouble saying the words. It's watching her hear them that threatens to break him. The way her whole face tightens in an effort to control her reaction, her arms curling around her body as if she's trying to shield herself.

He needs to be strong, because they're in this together. If he cracks, she'll fall apart, just like he will if the tears she's struggling to hold back slip from her eyes.

He gets through it, manages to explain what they did to him in that farmhouse, what his days entailed after he was moved to the basement in the city – the coerced domesticity.

It's cathartic, sharing the details, and it makes the burden of it all feel significantly lighter, the residual anger he felt falling away. There's a certain peace in knowing that they can't change the past, that it can't hurt them anymore, not unless they let it.

"He'll pay for what he did to you, Castle."

He nods, realising that he never considered whether the man – Stuart Delart – had been caught. But Kate is confident in her assertion that justice will be served, and that's enough for him.

"You're the reason I got through it, you know."

Without the memory of her, the promise of a life with her, he knows he would have died in that farmhouse.

He can still see that look in Lydia's eyes, the way she watched with perverted sympathy each time he cried out in pain.

It only stopped when he began feeding into their version of reality, trading the physical torture for another kind entirely. When he started focusing on Kate, on all that they could have, if he just … survived.

She's the reason he's here today, and while it can't be what he imagined…

They have the possibility of a future.

* * *

Kate makes herself breakfast while he stacks the dishwasher, a chore that has become his over the last few weeks.

He loves living here: being close to his family, the fresh start of a new city. He can't even consider moving away at this point – he has no desire to leave – but he likes having ways to contribute to the household.

"Thanks for coming out here," he says, filling the companionable silence as she eats. "I couldn't have gone to New York."

He admits it willingly, knows she understands that New York is too much for him even before she responds.

"I'm just glad to see you."

He finishes with the dishwasher, reclaiming his seat beside her. They settle into a familiar rhythm, one that lacks the nervousness, the hesitance of yesterday.

"Can I ask you something?"

She nods, confused, because he doesn't exactly need to ask permission. It lets her know that this question is different though, as he glances towards the door.

"I don't think Alexis likes talking about it, so I didn't want to…"

He clears his throat, smudges his thumb across the rim of his mug distractedly.

"My mother," he starts.

He doesn't know how to phrase the multitude of questions he has been holding back since the first mention of his mother caused Alexis' face to fall. Kate's head bobs, understanding, so he lets her lead.

"Alexis was here when it happened," she explains softly. "She didn't make it back to New York in time."

Every fleeting, optimistic assumption he made about his mother's passing included Alexis being there, and the news to the contrary turns the conversation into something he's not sure he can handle. A combination of grief and terror overwhelms him, leaving his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the counter.

"But I was with her."

Kate's words snap him from his torturous spiral of worst-case scenarios in a single second.

"I was there."

She wasn't alone.

"Alexis and Elliot had visited a few weeks before, but Alexis still hates that she didn't make it in time."

His heart breaks for his daughter as well as himself, and he's so caught up that he doesn't see Kate fall apart similarly beside him.

"It happened so quickly..."

Her voice cracks, and with one look at her he draws her into his arms, seeking comfort for them both.

"I miss her," she admits, her voice broken and muffled against his shoulder.

He still misses his mother with incredible ferocity; having already spent years without her doesn't lessen the pain. It might even amplify it.

His throat is clogged with unshed tears, and he can only press out a simple agreement as he considers the time they didn't get to spend together.

"Me too."

* * *

When Alexis comes home they all go for a walk, the rest of the day passing with the ease of routine.

Despite the painful conversations, it's been a good day, and he doesn't want it to end.

After dinner Alexis and Elliot retire upstairs, but he stays with Kate in the living room, unwilling to go to bed just yet.

"You want to watch a movie?" He inquires, gesturing to the television when saying goodnight becomes almost a foregone conclusion.

Kate stands, answering with a nod.

"Sounds good. But I do think a movie requires snacks of some kind, Castle."

One day, and they're already back to playful nudges and teasing as they navigate the kitchen. Hope blooms in his chest, a grin spreading across his face as he watches the popcorn in the microwave.

But then she runs a hand down his back as she passes him on her way to the fridge.

There's nothing particularly notable about the touch – it barely lasts a second – but his spine goes rigid, his whole body tensing.

He doesn't know what's happening, but his first and only reaction is to flee.

He can't be here.

He heads for the front door, needing the fresh air, needing _something_ to erase the memories of Lydia's hand sliding down his spine before resting on his hip. The tickle of her breath at his lips.

His skin crawls, and he stares up at the night sky, refusing to give in.

"Rick?"

Kate is tentative, but her voice alone is enough to pull him back.

"Sorry," he mumbles, scrubbing his hands down his face and opening his eyes to a new reality.

Everything's okay.

"I'm alright."

He takes her hand in an attempt to prove it to her, even though his own hand still tremors.

It's a harsh reminder that he's not over it, not like he wants to be, and it leaves him unsteady even as the anxiety ebbs away.

He didn't expect a fleeting touch to spark such an intense panic.

Just this morning her touch was a comfort, but this…

"Should I get Alexis?"

He's confused by the question until he really looks at her, sees the fear in her eyes.

"I'm fine," he tries again, softly. "Lydia… She used to run her hand down my back. Every time she said goodbye, right after she kissed me. You just took me by surprise."

The implication is unintended but they both hear it, her lips trembling ever so slightly.

He got through it all because he imagined that it was Kate kissing him goodbye, Kate's touch on his back.

It prompts a question that forces him to pull away from her, fear returning for a different reason.

Would he have reacted the same way if it had been Alexis in the kitchen?

* * *

He doesn't sleep, only this time it's anxiety that keeps him awake.

Insistent fear that he's still the broken man he was before, he's just better at hiding it now.

How many more issues, how many more memories are buried in his psyche? Does Kate remind him of _her_?

As hours pass without relief, the insomnia only worsens his paranoia, which in turn makes sleep more elusive.

Then morning comes, and it's too familiar, watching the sunlight creep in from behind the curtains. It's oddly calming, because the last time he lay awake like this, not yet ready to get up after a fitful night's rest, his sleep had been filled with nightmares, and he hadn't been able to decipher memories of Lydia from Kate.

He has made progress, despite the pessimistic, sleep-deprived voice in his head that has been twisting his thoughts.

He and Kate are friends. He isn't confused or hurt by seeing her. He's happy.

He mightn't be the man he was eight years ago, but he's okay.

He still wants to find out if he can possibly move Monday's appointment with Dr Capwell to sometime today, because even though he feels somewhat better, his brain won't _stop_. He needs the logic and the calm that comes with the sessions, and he's sure Alexis would love some time to spend with Kate.

* * *

The house is quiet when he emerges from his room, and he finds Kate in the living room with Sammy, Alexis nowhere to be seen. Elliot left for work almost half an hour ago, so the relative silence isn't unusual.

"Morning."

"Good morning."

Kate's attention is on Sammy as she addresses him, and he stops to watch her, all thought of coffee and calling Dr Capwell's office forgotten.

He's never seen her so… _happy_.

There's no other word for the pure joy that paints her face as she interacts with Sammy, the way she lights up at the simplest of responses from the child.

She lifts Sammy into her arms, resting him on her lap and peppering the top of his head with kisses before smoothing his hair down.

She's murmuring things he can't hear, but it keeps Sammy grinning and captivated.

He can't help himself, approaching them without conscious thought, overwhelmed by how natural she looks with a baby.

After a few minutes of quiet observation, the question slips from his mouth of its own volition.

"You and Tim didn't want kids?"

She freezes, her gaze moving slowly from Sammy back to him.

"No."

He's tempted to leave it at that, to let the moment pass as an awkward mistake, but he's painfully aware that they've done this dance before, many years ago. Ignoring confessions of love because they're too hard to face. He's on the other side of it this time, but he won't wait until it drives them apart.

"I don't understand," he begins, his gaze flitting to her, confirming that they're on the same page. He can't be the only one remembering the last – and only – time they talked about her ex-fiancé.

"_I couldn't marry him."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I love you."_

"I get that you moved on. It was a long time, and it was different for you than it was me. What I don't understand…" He pauses, trying to gather every errant point of confusion and put it into words.

"You loved him. He could have given you everything you wanted, and yet you chose to be alone. Because you love me."

He watches her reaction carefully, waiting for her to refute any part of his statement, because even after having so much time to contemplate her reasoning, it doesn't quite make sense.

"Because I love you," she repeats. "It was different, Rick. It was different when you were gone and never coming back. After they found you, once I knew you were alive… Even when you were on the other side of the country and unwilling to acknowledge me, everything was different. I couldn't marry him. I did love him, but not like I love you, and that wasn't a secret. The moment they found you, we both knew…"

She pauses, lost in memory or considering how to continue.

"I didn't choose to be alone, because I'm not alone, Castle. I'm not alone like I was when my mother died, I'm not alone like I felt when you were missing and everyone had given up. We have a friendship that I'll never take for granted, I have Alexis and Elliot, my dad…" she trails off, the rest of the list not needing to be said aloud.

"I'm grateful, Castle."

It's too much to take in at once. The emotion in her voice, the words she's saying, it's all too much.

"As for everything I ever wanted?"

Her tone is commanding, snapping him out of his head and back to the present.

"I want you, Rick, and that hasn't changed. It never will."

Her gaze is unwavering, demanding some kind of reply, or at least acknowledgment, but his mouth won't move.

His instinctive response rests on his lips, refusing to be spoken aloud.

_I love you, too. _

It's four words, four words that would change everything, but he can't give them to her.

Not now.

Not when his head is an exhausted mess and he's questioning whether he will ever truly be able to sever the connection between Kate and his memory of Lydia.

Not when she's sitting before him with a baby in her lap, the picture of all that might have been.

It's eating him from the inside out, the ever-encroaching reality that despite the inescapable love he has for her, he may not be able to be anything more than her friend.

Alexis doesn't know what she's walking into, coming down the stairs and sprouting thoughts on how they might spend the day.

She's in the living room before she twigs to the tension between them, and then Sammy is babbling for his mother, diffusing the moment.

"I–" Alexis looks between them hopelessly, apology written all over her face.

"It's fine," Kate says, but the pain in her eyes belies her offhanded response.

"Kate," he starts, helplessly seeking words to fix it and falling short as she walks away.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Thank you all for your support of this story, and your patience with my slow updates. I truly appreciate it. The remaining chapters should hopefully be faster :)**

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	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

**Kate**

* * *

She doesn't want to talk about it.

The moment he mentions Martha her throat tightens, and she wants to tell him _no_, beg him to leave it alone, but she can't.

He deserves answers.

She might not want to have the conversation, but it's even harder for Alexis, and he deserves to know what happened to his mother, why Alexis actively avoids talking about it.

So she takes a deep breath, steels herself, and tries to explain.

They became a family the summer that Castle disappeared, and not in the way they intended. Not in the official, name-changing way, but by being forged in grief, a shared loss, and Martha was the strongest of them all.

In the subsequent years her unwavering support, her ability to keep going… Kate doesn't know how she and Alexis would have survived without it. Even after three years without her, her absence is a void that will never be filled.

When Tim came into her life, Martha was the first to reassure her.

"_He would have wanted you to be happy, Katherine." _

At the time, she hadn't wanted to see anything with Tim, not a friendship and certainly not a future, but Martha had been there to lay it out for her. To tell her that it was okay to feel joy without him, to move on, even if she wasn't there yet. He wouldn't have wanted her to be swallowed up by her grief, not for the rest of her life.

She thought she was prepared for it, but the pain still hits her like a blow to the chest as she describes the day they lost her.

The frantic call from Alexis, speeding through the city traffic as she murmured assurances of '_I'm sure everything will be fine_'.

Emotion clouds the memory and she breaks, tears blurring her vision. Castle's a mess too, and she wishes she could be strong for him, but she can't keep her voice steady any longer.

"I miss her."

She only dares admit it once her face is buried against his shoulder, tears leaking from her eyes and staining his shirt.

When his croaked reply comes a few seconds later, the reminder that it's that much worse for him makes her heart constrict and her breathing falter, but his arm is firm around her, keeping her steady.

* * *

The walk is Alexis' idea, and she agrees readily, following their lead.

Castle walks ahead pushing Sammy in his stroller, narrating everything he sees to his grandson, who interjects with syllables when he has the inclination.

She hangs back with Alexis, watching them with a smile. She remembers their meeting at the hospital, the way Sammy pulled Castle from the darkness, and seeing how he lights up Sammy's world now is breathtaking.

"How was your morning?" Alexis inquires, nudging her gently to get her attention.

Kate shrugs a shoulder, contemplative. Just being with Castle, being able to talk to him without the barrier of the phone is amazing, even if the morning has been an emotional one.

"Good," she returns, unable to form much more of a response without the privacy and time to explain.

"Good?" Alexis repeats, shaking her head with a laugh.

"I'm also here to see you, you know," she says, bumping her hip against Alexis'. "I could be offended you've gone to such lengths to avoid spending time with me."

She grins, teasing, but Alexis' cheeks flush, her gaze dropping.

"Hey," she murmurs, slowing their pace and letting Castle increase the distance between them.

"I know it's stupid," Alexis mumbles. "Unrealistic," she amends, following a look from Kate. "I just can't help but hope… I want you both to be happy. But I'd love for you to be happy together."

She sighs softly. "Definitely not stupid."

She can't deny that she, too, hopes that she and Castle will be able to work through everything and come out the other side _together_. But the relationship they do have is a miracle in itself after all that he's been through – she has no right to want more.

Still, hope surges, fuelled by how well they've been getting along, and she wonders...

She slips an arm around Alexis' shoulders, pulling her close for a sideways hug in lieu of further response. Alexis is well aware that she feels the same way.

Castle comes to an abrupt stop, realising that they've fallen behind and looking back at them quizzically.

"Everything okay?" he wants to know, his tone laced with concern as they speed up to meet him.

"It's great."

* * *

She's not sure how it happens, but the friendly banter she associates with Castle returns with fire. The initial nerves have faded, perhaps just with the passing of time, and it feels so much like before.

They dance around the kitchen working on dinner while Alexis and Elliot feed Sammy, Castle teasing her because she doesn't chop vegetables to his high standard, the playful side of their relationship finding its footing again after so much uncertainty.

Plans are made for the weekend, Alexis wanting to make the most of the time they have together, and the reminder that she's a guest is jarring when it feels so much like coming home.

Once the meal is cleared away and the kitchen is clean, Elliot and Alexis disappear upstairs, claiming the need for an early night. The evening is coming to a close, and she glances at Castle, almost sighing audibly with relief when he suggests a movie. She doesn't want the night to end, not when they're getting along so well.

She organises drinks while he supervises the popcorn, and everything's great, until she brushes her hand down his back.

It happens so quickly she's not even entirely sure what she did, but suddenly he's outside and the front door is slamming, the sound ringing in her ears.

What has she done?

She opens the door to find him standing in the front yard, and she calls his name softly. She's willing to go back inside, to give him space if that's what he needs, she just has to know that he's _okay_.

He's adamant that he's fine, but he's shaking and pale and she's terrified.

She has no idea how Alexis has managed so well these last few months, because seeing him like this is heart wrenching.

She's helpless – paralysed with the fear of somehow making it worse, guilt-ridden for doing this to him in the first place, and petrified that he's not okay at all.

* * *

He placates her concern extensively before they go to bed, but as she lies awake, doubt is relentless.

Just as she convinces herself to go and talk to Alexis, to at least attempt to quell the fears that whisper to her in the darkness, she remembers his assurances, the easy smile on his face as he bid her goodnight, and she stays put.

She doesn't quite understand how, but he _was_ able to get over it. He was able to reassure her, to return to the man he was before she incited such fear in him.

She doesn't know how he even looks her in the eye without being reminded of all that Lydia did to him, but he does.

They've come this far; she needs to trust in it.

* * *

When she meets Alexis, Elliot and Sammy in the kitchen the next morning, every tiny concern that kept her from sleeping well spills out.

"Something happened," she blurts, the tremor in her voice making it clear that it wasn't something _good_. "Last night." She takes a breath, reorienting. "I touched his back, and he lost it, Alexis, he just…"

"He's alright, though," Alexis verifies, the flicker of worry in her eyes conveying her need for confirmation, despite her steady tone.

"He's fine, I think – he seemed like himself when he went to bed, but I…"

She hates that she was the one to send him into such a panic, that she could trigger memories of Lydia so unintentionally, and Alexis squeezes her hand.

"I'm sure he's okay," Alexis murmurs, leaving no room for disagreement. "You'd know if it was really bad. We all would."

She thinks back to the phone calls she used to get from Alexis, the magnitude of her distress after Castle had a breakdown or a panic attack, and she exhales, nodding.

It wasn't that bad.

Alexis leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek and placing Sammy in her arms.

She can't help but grin, well aware that Alexis is using her son to distract her, but not wanting to fight it.

Elliot leaves for work and Alexis goes upstairs, as she takes Sammy to the living room to play.

Castle emerges some time later, smiling pleasantly, and her anxiety falls away as she realises that Alexis is right.

He's okay. Even if she did hurt him, even if she did remind him of Lydia, he's all right. He's able to deal with it.

He greets her quietly and she replies in kind, preoccupied with Sammy, the way his tiny hand reaches for her, grabbing at thin air before making contact. She lifts him with a smile, pulling him into her lap and holding him close.

"You and Tim didn't want kids?"

She glances at Castle, taken aback.

She can't believe he doesn't know the answer. That he doesn't know that she wanted to have kids with _him_. That she couldn't fathom parenthood without him by her side.

"No."

She's trying to find the right words to explain when he pre-empts her.

"I don't understand."

He doesn't understand that she didn't want that kind of a future with anyone but him?

His confusion as to the strength of her feelings for him makes indignation flare, everything she has been holding back because he hasn't been willing to hear it bubbling to the surface.

He really doesn't get it.

"Because I love you," she begins, correcting his assumptions that Tim was all she ever wanted and setting him straight as to the decisions she made. She ends on the familiar notion of "_I want you_", the adrenaline fading and leaving in its wake the unsettling sensation of laying her soul bare.

He gapes at her, slightly stunned, and she's made painfully aware that he isn't returning the sentiment as Alexis joins them, saving him from the inevitability of responding.

"It's fine," she intones, passing Sammy to his mother and taking the opportunity to flee.

* * *

She barely gets five minutes alone to think before he follows her out to the porch.

She doesn't turn when the door opens, staring straight ahead, but Castle isn't discouraged.

"Kate."

"It's fine, Castle. I get it."

She does.

She understands how hard this is for him, that despite how well he seems to be doing, all that happened to him isn't something you get over in five months. It's the kind of thing that haunts you for the rest of your life.

She even understands that her touch reminds him of the woman who held him in a basement and forced him to perpetuate her delusions, that he can't love her like he did before.

She just needs time to pull herself together, for her emotions to catch up to what her brain already knows.

"You don't have to say anything."

She turns to face him, sends him a watery smile.

"I understand, I just…"

It _hurts_.

She won't say it aloud, but that's the reality.

That he doesn't feel the same way she does, that they'll never have anything more… It might be something she's known all along, but that doesn't take the sting out of the confirmation.

"It's not that I don't…" he starts, but she shakes her head, allows him to taper off.

"It's fine. Just give me a minute?"

"Kate–"

"Please."

His mouth tightens with words unsaid but he bows his head, accepting.

"I'll be inside."

* * *

When she has just about pulled herself together, she finds Alexis and Castle getting ready to head out.

He explains that he made a last-minute appointment with his therapist, wanting to discuss last night, and that Alexis is going to combine driving him there with grocery shopping. He's hesitant, as if concerned she might object, but she's silently grateful for the time to herself.

The moment the house is empty she runs a hot bath, determined to let go of the disappointment that still lingers, refusing to listen to reason.

She knew when she got on the plane in New York that they would never be who they used to be, but she got caught up in how much he has changed since she saw him last, how well they were getting along, and hope took on a life of its own.

The fact that he can't return her feelings doesn't negate their friendship, or detract from the relationship they do have that she holds so dear.

It's just fleeting disappointment.

That's all.

She lets all of the irrational hurt fade away, washing it down the drain with the last of the bathwater.

* * *

Castle and Alexis are home before she's even used to the silence of the house, and she greets them on the stairs with wet hair and a lazy smile.

Maybe it was as simple as some time apart to provide much-needed clarity, to reinforce what's important.

Castle's visibly preoccupied, his eyes never leaving her, and he pulls her aside the first chance he gets.

"Kate," he starts, his gaze intense. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry about it, Castle," she smiles. "Don't apologise. I wanted to tell you why I made the choices I did; you didn't – don't – have to say anything in return."

His eyes narrow, pensive, and she wants to take his hand, to give him some kind of tangible assurance, but instead she has to resort to words.

"It's okay."

Her tone is soft, her face open, showing him that she's no longer upset by his lack of response, that it was an instinctive reaction, not a long-term one.

He's here with her now, and that's all that matters.

* * *

Her day out with Alexis is a long-standing tradition, although in the past it never required planning ahead – Elliot simply left them to their day of shopping and manicures.

Now, Castle and Elliot stay at home with Sammy, and she and Alexis set out on a day that is free of all responsibility.

The familiarity of the tradition makes her warm with content, and she revels in the time with Alexis. It's a day she always treasures, every trip she makes to San Francisco, and today is no different.

They get home to find the house littered with Sammy's toys, Elliot and Castle on the floor with dopey grins and Sammy giggling between them.

The house is alive with laughter, and she can't help but remember the last time she visited, when Alexis had been pregnant.

It was quietly joyful then, but now it's loud and unmistakeable.

* * *

She and Castle end up on dinner duty, giving Sammy the opportunity to enjoy bath-time with both of his parents.

It's the first moment they've had alone since she asked him for space out on the porch, and while it isn't awkward, the familiarity isn't playful like it used to be.

She's hyper-aware of her hands, constantly terrified of brushing past him in the wrong way, even though logic tells her that he was fine with her touch before, that it was one ignorant move.

He calls her on it after ten minutes, his hands on her shoulders for emphasis.

"Kate," he says firmly, and she would mistake his determination for anger if not for the twinkle in his eye. "You don't need to worry about setting me off."

She wouldn't phrase it quite so callously, but she nods anyway, patting his chest awkwardly as if to prove her agreement. He laughs, breaking the tension, and nudges her away from his perfectly chopped salad when she tries to "ruin it" by helping.

"I've been meaning to ask you something," he says, far too intently for it to be trivial. "Someone caught Tyson, right? He's not still out there?"

She should have told him earlier, after she divulged the first part of the story. She should have lead with the conclusion, really, and she winces at her thoughtlessness, quick to explain.

"Yeah. Boston PD. Couple of years after I let him slip away."

Too many people died at his hands in the interim, but she swallows, refusing to dwell on what she can't change.

"He died in prison."

Castle nods once, and she forces a smile for Elliot and Alexis as they descend the stairs with Sammy.

* * *

Halfway through dinner something changes.

Something so minute that she can't decipher what it is, but Castle withdraws from conversation, visibly bewildered.

It's not until after the meal, when they're sheltered in the relative privacy of the living room, that he gives it away.

His gaze lowers for a split second, and it hits her suddenly, what has caused him such confusion.

His eyes are on the chain that hangs around her neck, the same chain he watched her put away for good all those years ago, and her fingers slip around the metal, tugging it softly.

She unearths the ring, letting it rest atop her shirt, and his eyes flash, going from confused to empathetic in seconds.

It's so much a part of her now that she doesn't consciously notice it, but she remembers the day she slid it onto the chain that used to hold her mother's ring with brutal clarity.

In the beginning she wore it on her finger. She wouldn't take it off, wouldn't admit that he wasn't coming back to put a wedding band there too.

Then it became a beacon for sympathy. Her colleagues looked at her as if she was clinging to something she'd already lost. She'd be in a coffee shop and strangers would glance at her and _know_. Know who she was, know that Richard Castle was dead and she was still wearing his ring, and she couldn't do it anymore.

So she transferred the weight to her neck, made it a reminder for herself alone, as well as a way to keep him close.

He's one of the few people who recognise the significance, who know what her mother's ring was to her when she wore it as she now does his, so when his face crumples, she knows what he's thinking even before he speaks.

"It shouldn't be a weight."

"It's not," she disagrees, her hand covering his after only a moment's hesitation.

It was in the beginning, but as the years passed, it became something else.

"It's a memory."

A memory of them, of the life they had together, however fleeting.

He's conflicted, his fingers around the ring that was once a promise of a shared future.

"I love you, too, you know. Of course I do."

His voice is a whisper, the words echoing in her ears even though she barely heard them the first time.

"Castle-"

His name dies on her lips as she realises he's too pained by the admission to be finished speaking. She braces for the blow, but it still sends her heart plummeting.

"I just don't know if it's enough."

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Rick**

* * *

He starts for the door after a few moments of indecision, ignoring the way Alexis is staring at him as if it's a bad idea. He can't watch Kate walk away and not follow, especially when she just declared him to be all she wants.

He might not have the words to explain his lack of response, but he can't stop himself from going after her.

When he opens the door she's staring out onto the street, not even turning when he says her name.

She tells him she understands, but the smile she forces when she twists to look at him doesn't hide the hurt in her eyes, the pain he so desperately wants to erase.

"It's not that I don't…" he tries, but he can't finish the sentence and she doesn't press the issue.

Instead she asks to be alone, her head dropping, and he can't bear to leave her when she's so visibly upset, but as a plea falls from her lips he realises that it's the one thing he can actually give her.

"I'll be inside."

* * *

He calls Dr Capwell's office when he reaches the kitchen, surprised to learn that the doctor had a cancellation and can see him in an hour. He takes the appointment readily despite the short notice, because he needs the feeling of certainty that follows the sessions, the way Dr Capwell makes anything seem manageable with little more than a few intelligent questions.

Alexis offers to take him, suggesting they should let Kate have some time to herself, and he hears what his daughter doesn't say. Maybe a little time apart to regroup would be a good thing.

* * *

He's quiet during the drive home, his head spinning with all that he discussed with Dr Capwell, the realities he hasn't wanted to face.

He may never truly be able to separate Kate from the woman in the basement, the woman he now knows was Lydia but at the time believed unequivocally to be Kate.

His love for Kate never wavered – it persisted when his perception of reality became skewed and it didn't falter when he learned the truth – but thinking of her romantically isn't yet independent of Lydia, and it may not ever be.

Since Kate arrived errant sparks of hope have been fuelled by the way his heart expands when she's near and the inexplicable way he's drawn to her, yet reality is inescapable, the paralysing touches and reminders of all that stands between them overpowering the way she makes him feel.

The rest of the world might fade away when he's with her, but the memory of Lydia remains, haunting him silently, and he doesn't know if he can change that.

* * *

He wants to apologise to Kate, to tell her that he should have had the words at least to respond to her declaration this morning, but she brushes him off, empathetic.

It isn't an attempt on her part to forget it, to get him to leave it alone because she's angry or upset with him. She says just needed him to know where she stands; she doesn't need a response.

Her hand jolts as if she's about to reach for him but thinks better of it, her smile kind.

"It's okay," she promises, leaving him speechless.

She isn't expecting something from him that he can't give.

He exhales, the relief that accompanies the confirmation stronger than he anticipated. No matter what happens, he isn't going to lose her.

* * *

He knows Alexis and Kate are close. He's seen it in their constant interaction even with Kate on the other side of the country – he's seen Kate in the woman his daughter has become.

But when Alexis pushes the front door open after their apparently traditional day out together, her smile wide and laughter falling from her lips, it truly sinks in.

His daughter carries with her the weight of the world by virtue of her personality, taking on responsibility for everything and everyone around her, but with Kate she's almost carefree. Her joy is uninhibited and she looks at Kate with such pure and mutual admiration that his breath catches in his throat.

Early on, when he was capable of keeping track of the days he'd been gone, he'd hoped that they would be there for each other in some capacity, that they wouldn't feel alone.

He never imagined it would look like this.

* * *

After barely seeing Kate during the day, he's grateful for the time together as they make dinner, until he realises that they haven't quite moved past their last encounter in the kitchen.

Her posture goes rigid as soon as they're in close proximity, and she steps away from him every time he so much as shuffles towards her. It's not a large kitchen; it's virtually impossible to cook alongside someone without brushing elbows, but she's making a valiant effort.

He takes the first opportunity he's given to clear the air, framing her body with his arms, one hand on either shoulder.

He appreciates that she's looking out for him, trying to avoid inadvertently causing him another panic attack, but it isn't necessary. She took him by surprise that night; she doesn't need to be so hesitant, so afraid to touch him.

"You don't need to worry about setting me off," he says intently.

She nods once before patting his chest, her hand over his heart in such a purposeful movement that it's humorous and he leaves it there, knowing they're okay.

They get back to dinner, Alexis and Elliot's laughter drifting down the stairs and making him smile, but as they fall into companionable silence, the one thing that's been niggling in the back of his mind won't be ignored any longer.

"Someone caught Tyson, right? He's not still out there?"

He can tell that she still carries it with her too, that she let Tyson get away, but somebody stopped him and he focuses on that. She shares it with him – the relief – and they paste happy grins on their faces as Elliot and Alexis join them in the kitchen.

* * *

He doesn't notice it at first.

He's not entirely sure what brings it to his attention because it's not as if it's suddenly visible, but he glances at her from across the table and his eyes are drawn to the chain around her neck, perplexed. Her mother's ring has always been a part of her – he barely knew her without it – but he did witness her putting it away as they laid her mother's case to rest.

Why would she still be carrying the weight of it around her neck?

After the meal, when she realises what has had him so distracted all night, her fingers reach for the chain, tugging until it's free from the confines of her shirt.

He's expecting her mother's ring, maybe an explanation as to why she began wearing it again. He is _not_ expecting the ring he slid onto her finger, once upon a time.

It sends a shiver down his spine, his heart breaking apart in that split second of comprehension.

She traded one for the other.

"It shouldn't be a weight," he whispers, the thought making tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

She's quick to correct him, explaining that she considers it a memory, but she's tentative. For the first time he sees that she actually believes her feelings are one-sided, and he doesn't even think about how to respond, the words just slip out in a rush to set her straight.

"I love you too, you know. Of course I do."

It's the only thing he's always known, the only thing that has stayed true – his love for Kate, for his family.

"I just don't know if it's enough." He swallows thickly, forcing himself to continue, to voice the fear he hasn't wanted to admit to himself. "I'm afraid that this – this friendship might be all I can handle."

Her gaze doesn't waver for a second, her tone resolute.

"I don't need anything more."

She smiles faintly, a small apprehensive quirk of her lips that ever so slightly assuages the wrenching sensation in his chest.

"It's okay, Castle."

He squeezes her hand, grateful that she knows him so well, that she understands what he's trying to say even when he can only manage a few words.

Everything else falls away, his reality made up of her alone, and in the absence of all rational thought, he gives in to it. He ignores the voice in his head that speaks for his fear and paranoia, ignores the way his palms are sweating because he remembers all too well what happened two days ago, and he takes a chance. He brushes his lips against her cheek, acting on instinct alone.

It's a brief moment of contact, reminiscent of the way they began in the precinct so many years ago, and yet the visions that flash in his mind are memories of Lydia.

He knows exactly which woman held him against his will in a basement and used the slightest hints of freedom as bargaining power. He knows that it's Kate that stands before him, Kate's tongue that darts out to wet her lower lip as she pulls it between her teeth nervously.

But it's not enough.

He can't suppress of the memories of Lydia, the way her mouth felt on his, the way it made his stomach lurch and his body tremor until his brain started to believe it might be Kate. It was only then that he found a way to get through it, but he didn't realise it came with a price.

He pulls Kate into his arms, needing the privacy to react to the realisation he can no longer deny, needing to hold her close. He rests his chin on her shoulder, lets the tears slide down his cheeks without her seeing and her arms tighten around him.

He thought seeing her might sever the connection between them that still exists in his subconscious, that he and Kate might one day have a chance at a relationship, but now...

He can't be haunted by memories of Lydia, constantly reminded of the worst eight years of his life.

He needs to let them go.

* * *

Even in his grief, there are words.

The only way he's able to make sense of the disappointment that tears his heart in two is by writing, and for that at least he's thankful.

Words that he doesn't overthink, that he doesn't re-read. Words he can't say aloud but can scribble down on paper, making his soul feel lighter, page by page.

* * *

He wakes late after spending most of the night writing and upon emerging from his room he finds Alexis and Elliot standing at the front door.

He regards them questioningly as he moves towards the coffee machine and Kate smirks.

"They're taking advantage of my offer to babysit and going out for lunch," she explains, her expression indicating that she encouraged them, even as her eyes glint teasingly.

He glances at the clock, realising just how late he slept and shaking his head jokingly at Alexis and Elliot.

"This is how guests get treated," he sighs, slightly over-dramatic. "Babysitting and leftovers for lunch."

Alexis rolls her eyes at him and Kate just laughs, open and unrestrained.

"Wouldn't really consider you a guest," Elliot says to Kate, shrugging his jacket on.

"Yeah, dad," Alexis agrees, somehow implying he's the one being rude, and he meets Kate's gaze as he realises what they're alluding to, his cheeks warm.

_Family_.

* * *

They sit on opposite ends of the two-seater, Kate reading while he writes lazily. Sammy's asleep upstairs and the house is silent except for the intermittent flipping of pages. He takes a long sip of coffee before setting his mug down, reluctant to disrupt their quiet contentment but needing to resume their conversation from last night before he loses his nerve.

"Kate."

"Mm," her attention shifts to him instantly, dropping the book to her lap.

"You don't need anything more," he begins, needing to hear it again.

He's afraid he's too vague, but when he sees the look on her face there's no mistaking her comprehension.

"I don't," she vows, reaching for his hand. "I don't need anything more. Just this right here – just you."

She knows what he's about to say and she's quietly apprehensive, but her lips are upturned, encouraging him to continue.

"Because I can't…" He swallows, trying again. "You, Lydia… You're both still tied together. A relationship with you, a future with you… It will always have pieces of her, and I can't live with the reminder. I need to let her go, Kate."

He waits for her response, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that comes with saying it aloud.

"We'll still have this, though," she confirms. "We'll still be friends."

"Yes," he almost cuts her off with his emphatic response.

She exhales softly, her relief clear as she processes all that he's said.

"I'm sorry."

He breathes the apology in her silence, because they both want to hold out hope for a shared future, and he's the one taking it away.

"You don't…"

Her voice breaks, her eyes clouding with tears that she tries to blink away.

"Stop apologising to me, Castle. I get it." Her tone is kind, and she squeezes his hand. "This is all I need." Even with tears slipping down her cheeks, her sincerity is unmistakable.

"I want you to be happy, Kate," he murmurs. He can't ever imagine being able to be more than her friend, and if she can be happy with someone else, it's all he wants for her.

She shudders nearly imperceptibly, averting her gaze.

"Do you remember before we were together, when I asked you to wait for me?"

He sighs inaudibly, remembering their swings and a conversation laden with subtext about the kind of relationship she wanted, knowing exactly what she's trying to say.

"It's different," he responds. "You gave me something. A promise about the defences you'd built up and your mother's case. I can't give you anything, Kate. Nothing more than what we already have. That may not ever change."

"It's okay, Castle," she says, hearing the pain in his voice, his reluctant resignation. "I understand."

She does – he sees it in the depths of her eyes, the absolute compassion there.

"You saved my life, Kate," he whispers. "The thought of you – imagining you – it saved my life."

Her mouth forms a closed-lipped smile, her eyes blurred with unshed tears.

They both hear what goes unsaid, the painful irony that the reason he's here today is the reason they can't be together, and she strokes her thumb across his jawline, focuses his attention.

"Then it's worth it."

* * *

They all go out to dinner together before taking Kate to the airport.

The imminent farewell hovers over them but Sammy is lively and oblivious, demanding attention and allowing him the illusion that it's any other night. That is until Kate lifts the boy into her arms, murmuring about making the most of the little time they have left and how much she'll miss him. Then there's no ignoring it.

Her visit passed too quickly.

He wants to say he'll go to New York to see her sometime soon, but the flicker of panic that the thought incites reminds him that it isn't likely.

He can't face New York. Not now, maybe not ever. The noise of the city, the memories attached to it... It's a fear he's not ready to confront.

But they'll speak on the phone like they did before, and she's said she'll visit again. He knows she and Alexis were in the habit of seeing each other as frequently as possible and they have no intention for that to change.

He takes a breath. The thought of saying goodbye to her has always been lurking in the back of his mind, but he never gave it sufficient time to sink in, and now it's hitting with unexpected force.

But Alexis is smiling, determined to enjoy this last meal together, so he twists his lips into an almost genuine grin and follows her lead.

* * *

They linger in the terminal, delaying the inevitable until Elliot steps forward, embracing Kate and wishing her a safe flight.

Alexis' eyes are lined with tears before Elliot is even finished his goodbye, and she falls into Kate's arms instinctively. They murmur to each other words he can't make out, Kate pressing a kiss to Alexis' cheek before she pulls away.

Sammy cries out from Elliot's arms and Kate grins, dusting kisses to the child's forehead and whispering her love for him in soothing tones.

She's about to turn to him when one look at Alexis has her doubling back, pulling Alexis into another tight hug and refusing to relinquish her hold until Alexis is smiling.

"I'll see you soon."

There's a promise in the sentiment that puts Alexis at ease, and she pulls herself together, taking Elliot's hand.

"We'll meet you at the car, dad," Alexis says, offering Kate one last wave and "I love you" before exiting out the automatic doors.

Kate watches them until they're out of sight, taking a deep breath.

"All things considered," she starts, her gaze flitting nervously to the floor. "This has been a pretty great trip."

"You're not disappointed?"

"Castle," she's softly admonishing and he says no more. He is disappointed – heartbroken, really, now that the tiny part of him that assumed they'd one day be together again stands harshly corrected – but he won't allow that to affect their friendship. It's too important to him.

"I'll call when I land?" She asks, as if it's a question.

He nods insistently. "Let me know you're home safe."

She glances at the line for security before turning back to him.

"You can come visit anytime you want," she says, a glimmer of hope in her eyes despite knowing he's unlikely to take her up on the offer.

"You'll come back soon?" He replies instead and she smiles.

"I will. I'll talk to you when I get home, Castle."

He bands an arm around her shoulders, her arms looping around his waist, and as the minutes pass he only becomes more reluctant to pull away.

But they part and he takes a step back, willing himself to be stronger about this. It isn't goodbye, not really. This isn't the end of anything.

"My door's always open," she tells him, gentle in the reminder.

He smiles, grateful for the reassurance and taking her hand briefly before letting her go.

This isn't the end at all.

* * *

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	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Kate**

* * *

It feels final.

More so than ever before, leaving San Francisco feels distinctly like the end of something, even though she knows that's not the case.

Saying goodbye to Alexis is always hard, but she's done it before and she knows it's never permanent. With Castle the years they spent apart are still fresh in her mind, and their goodbye lingers long after she boards the plane.

It's not as if they parted on a sour note. Despite his heart-wrenching admission that he can't imagine a romantic future with her independent of his memories of Lydia, their grief was mutual, only reaffirming their intention to remain in each other's lives.

Still, her stomach twists with the smallest flicker of anxiety, and she can't help but wonder if the sensation of finality is rooted in reality, not paranoia.

She calls him after she gets off the plane as promised and he picks up quickly, despite the late hour.

"Hey, Kate. Landed safely?"

"Mhm, on my way to baggage claim," she affirms, stifling a yawn. "I'm surprised you're still awake."

"You said you'd call when you landed," he reminds her. "Wasn't about to fall asleep on you."

She smiles, any irrational part of her that was worried he might pull away disappearing instantly.

"Waiting by the phone, Castle?" She asks, the good-natured teasing slipping out automatically and he laughs.

"Absolutely."

There's no shame in his voice but he keeps the mood light, and they fall back into the rhythm she knows so well, the playful back and forth, her insecurities now a memory.

They're going to be fine.

* * *

She has dinner with her father a couple of days after getting home, and when he asks how things are with Castle she struggles to explain the situation. He knows that her love for Castle is unfaltering, that she was hopeful they might one day rekindle what they had, and the peace she's found knowing they'll only ever be friends is difficult to describe.

Her father knows her, though, and he doesn't need to hear the words to understand what she's saying.

"You're lucky," he agrees softly. "Lucky to have him back, in any capacity."

She nods, her chest tight as she recognises the knowing look in his eyes.

Learning that while Castle loves her just as she loves him they can't be together created cracks in her heart she's not sure will ever heal, but she has him in her life, she has him as a friend, and for that she is beyond grateful.

* * *

She settles back into the routine of everyday life in New York, months passing quickly.

She sees her father at least once a week, speaks to Alexis, Elliot and Castle frequently, and spends her days at a fulfilling job with friends that are unfailing in their love and support.

She's content, something that never fails to please Alexis, who even after all this time worries about her, compelled to confirm that she's doing okay. It's sweet and reciprocated, and even though there's no need for the inquiries that they drop into normal conversation every few weeks, it's comforting.

She's telling Alexis about her day, the conversation like any other, when she makes a passing comment about how long it's been since she was in San Francisco and suddenly Alexis is planning a trip to New York.

It's a spur of the moment idea that gains traction quickly, Alexis throwing the phone to Castle, promising to return after she discusses the possibility with Elliot.

Castle's caught off guard by the quick transfer, hesitant as he answers the phone.

"Kate?"

"How's it going, Castle?"

"Good. Alexis is so ecstatic right now," he observes, joyful in the kind of way he is only with his daughter, his love unmistakable. "She misses you – I miss you."

The conversation shifts instantly with those simple words, eradicating her hesitance and propelling her next line of thought.

"Rick?"

Her tone softens, preparing them both for the question she has to ask, even though his silence on the matter is likely a sufficient answer.

"Any chance you might come with them?"

He's quiet on the other end of the line, further confirming her suspicions.

"I wish I could," he murmurs finally, his voice cracking. "I just… I'm afraid," he admits. "Things are going so well, Kate, and I don't know that I can face New York without it all coming back. I don't know that I want to."

She swallows thickly, willing the stubborn tears in her eyes to recede, for them not to be audible.

"Had to ask."

She didn't expect him to say yes – she knows that to him New York is no longer the place they met and fell in love or where he grew up and raised Alexis. It's the city where he was held captive by a madwoman, so agonisingly close to freedom without the ability to reach it.

She understands that he won't return, that it has nothing to do with her.

But it has been almost six months since she last saw him, and disappointment sinks in her stomach.

"Alexis wants to talk to you," he says quietly, his goodbye regretful as he hands over the phone.

"Elliot can't get the time off work," Alexis reports. "But I can come on my own or with Sammy – I just want to see you, Kate."

Alexis continues thinking out loud, working out the logistics and possible dates, overlooking the easy solution.

"Alexis?"

She cuts Alexis off mid-sentence, too impatient to wait.

"I'm coming to you."

* * *

Castle teases her with a surprise for weeks before she gets on the plane, unbelievably confident that it's something she'll like. He won't tell her what it is – _'that would contradict the meaning of _surprise_, Beckett'_ – and despite ample time to consider what it could be, she doesn't have the slightest idea.

It falls to the back of her mind when she arrives, distracted by Alexis and Elliot and _Sammy_ who is toddling around with so much confidence that it makes her feel as if she's been gone for years, not months. She spoils him; powerless against his dimpled grin and stunning blue eyes, and when his bedtime rolls around she's possibly more resistant than Sammy. Alexis just rolls her eyes at the exaggerated pout she makes when Sammy's head is turned, inviting her to say goodnight before she and Elliot take the boy upstairs.

Castle disappears after they bid Sammy goodnight, throwing "be right back" over his shoulder as he pads down the hallway towards his room, leaving her standing in the kitchen to revel in the feeling of family that enveloped her the moment she walked through the door.

He has built this surprise up for weeks, yet when he returns she is in no way prepared for it.

He's written a novel.

She blinks at the book in her hands, unsure she's correctly interpreted the gesture, but there's no mistaking the shy pride in his eyes, the name printed across the cover.

She knows he's been writing but he always brushed it off as nothing, as simply words on a page, no kind of story.

He never said anything about this.

"You didn't tell me you were writing a novel," she breathes.

"I didn't really think it was a novel," he says, looking up at her from lowered eyes. "It was just _writing_ that I sent to an old friend from Black Pawn for some objective feedback. I didn't really think it would be… anything. Then when there was discussion of turning it into a novel… I wanted to show it to you in person."

"It's something," she murmurs, completely overwhelmed.

It's the first book he's written since he disappeared, a fundamental part of who he is that he has reclaimed, and she's amazed by the accomplishment, the weight of it in her hands.

She runs her fingers along the lettering on the cover, the name that is his but not the one he's known for.

"I don't want it to sell solely because of my reputation or disappearance," he explains, motioning to the book.

"So it's not about…"

"No," he shakes his head. "I think the publishers are hopeful the next one will be the tell-all," he says, his amusement at the prospect plain.

_The next one. _

"So they're willing to do a small digital release, take a chance on this in the hope that it'll pay off later."

Her brow furrows, the paperback in her reverent grasp defying his statement.

"I thought you might prefer a hard copy," he adds, his cheeks flushing as she looks at him, touched by the gesture and still awestruck that he has written a novel.

She always refused to read his work until it was ready to be published; she never thought she'd read anything new from him again. This is so much more than the simple surprise he's been teasing – it's a gift.

"I'm proud of you, Rick," she tells him, her gaze focused.

"You haven't read it yet," he points out. "No one has, other than my editor, the publishers. It hasn't even been released yet – it could be awful."

"Don't need to have read it," she returns, unable to resist flipping through the first few pages for a glimpse to confirm that it's real. She lands on the dedication out of habit, the two simple words taking her breath away.

_For Kate._

When she meets his gaze he's gentle, so damn charming in his response as she flounders, speechless.

"You always were my muse."

* * *

Reading his work is a compulsion, and she's met with only knowing glances when she says goodnight to everyone early, novel in hand.

For all his enthusiasm on the phone Castle is unusually shy about the prospect of her actually reading his book, something she doesn't fully understand until she curls up in the armchair in her room and begins.

He still has that incredible ability to layer his own life into his stories, but this one is completely different to anything he published under the name Richard Castle.

The grief and yearning of the past year is plain for her to see through his fictional narrative, and when she closes the book at the last page, tears stain her cheeks.

She wipes beneath her eyes, leaning back in the chair and breathing deeply.

He has written all that has gone unsaid between them since she left San Francisco the last time, the conclusion to his story bittersweet and open-ended.

For months she has told herself she's content with what they have and she is, yet as she considers his fictional adaptation of their journey, she realises how much she was hoping for a fairy tale ending.

* * *

Castle sits in the kitchen when she emerges the next morning, his apprehension clear.

"It's incredible," she says without preamble, her voice low and sincere. She opens her mouth, searching for some other way to describe the story that still lingers in her mind, but no words could do it justice. "Truly."

His smile is grateful, slightly relieved.

"Thank you."

It was cathartic to read his words, to see his point of view even through a different narrative. It gives her a sense of closure now, an even greater appreciation for the relationship they do have, the miracle that it is.

"Thank _you_."

* * *

It's easier this time: saying goodbye.

Castle won't come to New York and she doesn't ask him to, but she knows that the separation won't change them, that he'll always be here and they aren't going to lose each other in the distance.

It's a familiar farewell, the five of them in the terminal, the same vow on her lips as they part.

"See you soon."

* * *

She's getting home from a meal with the Ryans when her phone rings, Alexis' name lighting up the screen.

Since she left San Francisco a few months ago they've formed somewhat of a routine with their conversations, and the unexpected nature of this call piques her curiosity before she even answers.

"I'm pregnant."

There's no greeting, no pleasantries, just that single statement blurted out in an excited tone, and Kate's face breaks into a grin.

"You are?"

She knows that Alexis and Elliot always wanted more than one and the joy she feels for them is immediate, her whole body buzzing.

"Sammy's going to be a brother, and Dad… you should have seen his face, Kate, he was so elated."

She presses her lips together, the image her mind conjures up enough to make her unsteady on her feet.

"I'm so happy for you," she says sincerely, settling in as Alexis continues.

When their conversation comes to an end Alexis passes the phone over to Castle, who is just as thrilled as she described.

He gets to be there this time, gets to know his grandchild from birth, and she can hear the excitement in his voice as they discuss it, just as she did Alexis'.

* * *

A couple of days later Castle calls her, their conversation nothing unusual until he informs her he has news to share.

"I'm thinking about looking for my own place."

"Castle."

To say she's caught off-guard would be an understatement.

"I've been thinking about it for a while and now with the baby… it's time. I want the independence, and I know I can do it. Nothing too far from Alexis but just – something of my own."

He's so self-assured, so confident, and pride and awe swell in her chest, the combination dizzying.

"That's amazing Castle," she tells him. "What did Alexis say?"

She's in shock – she can't imagine how Alexis must feel.

"She nodded," he says, pausing as if waiting for her to make sense of it.

"She didn't say _anything_?"

"Nope."

"Maybe she was just surprised?" She offers, failing to come up with anything else.

"Maybe," he agrees, hesitant. "She hasn't said anything to you?"

"No… But it probably just needs to sink in. It's pretty monumental, Castle."

"Yeah," he intones, distracted by his concern for his daughter.

"Just give it some time, let her get used to the idea."

"I thought she'd have something to say," Castle responds, perplexed.

"I'm sure she will."

* * *

Days pass and she starts to think that maybe Alexis isn't as affected by the thought of her father moving out as she anticipated.

Then her phone rings in the middle of her workday.

"Kate."

"Alexis?"

She recognises the panic in Alexis' tone instantly, her concern just as swift.

"Dad's moving out. He's really doing it. It's not some half-baked idea born from guilt or the insane idea that he's a burden – he really wants to leave."

The words are fast and continuous and Kate stops, repeating Alexis' name in an effort to get her to slow down and breathe.

"He's doing so well, Kate. I finally have my dad back and now he's leaving again."

Alexis' breaths are choked, her voice pitched higher than usual.

"He's not going anywhere," Kate begins, quiet but firm. "He's considering finding a place of his own. He wouldn't even contemplate moving anywhere that's not close to you, you know that."

It's not even in question, and she lets the logic of what she's saying resonate with Alexis before continuing.

"Do you think maybe the reason he wants to move out is because he's doing so well? That he's trying to get back to what might have been normal had he not been abducted?"

"This wouldn't be our normal," Alexis mutters, almost petulant.

Kate swallows, recognising the implications of the statement that she overlooked in her haste to reassure Alexis.

Maybe had he not disappeared normal would have been Alexis travelling to New York to see both of them, but there's no point in dwelling on it now.

"He's still going to be around after he moves out, Alexis. You won't even have to ask – he'll be there."

There's no disputing it, and Alexis' breathing slows to an almost regular rate.

"Is it selfish of me to complain that I'm going to miss him?"

Alexis' voice is a whisper and Kate shakes her head, sympathetic.

"Of course not. He's your father."

"Then I'm going to miss him," Alexis sighs. "I get that this is good for him, that it's a huge, _positive_ step, but… I'm going to miss him."

* * *

Alexis' anxiety over Castle's departure turns out to be a little premature.

He lets the idea settle with them all before he starts looking, and even then he takes his time.

He searches online for months, reading out listings and musing the possibilities with her over the phone.

For someone so picky he doesn't really know what he wants, and he entertains her endlessly with his descriptions of properties he doesn't have any interest in.

Eventually he stumbles across a place close to Alexis and Elliot that he can't seem to fault, but when she suggests looking into it further he stalls, the prospect suddenly real to him.

"You can do this, Rick," she reminds him, her faith unwavering.

"You sure?" He asks, laughing nervously. "Because I'm not. Why am I even looking for my own place, Kate? I'm happy here."

"Castle," she starts, commanding his attention. "You can do this. There's no doubt in my mind. You don't have to, but you can, if it's what you want."

It is what he wants – she's spent long enough on the other end of the phone with him over the last few months to know it – but she waits for him to remember.

"I haven't lived alone since before Alexis was born," he admits. "What if it's lonely?"

"It's not so bad," she assures him.

"Yeah, but you have me calling every other night to discuss real estate and how to stay on the good side of a woman who's eight months pregnant."

She laughs at the whine in his voice, her response automatic.

"And you'll have me."

* * *

She gets the call that Alexis is in labour as she's leaving work, stepping out onto the street.

She has a flight to San Francisco in three weeks time, the thought being that she'd visit after the baby's born so that she could organise the trip ahead of time around work, but when she hangs up the phone her feet move of their own accord back inside the precinct.

Esposito is understanding, offering to cover for her until Friday and she doesn't give it any further thought because Alexis is having a _baby_.

She calls Castle from the airport, excitement and adrenaline rushing through her system, a boarding pass in her hand.

"You're at the airport, aren't you?"

His tone is too knowing for him to have guessed from the background noise and she grins.

"I land just before four your time."

He's at home with Sammy and promises to message her with any updates, boyishly excited as he hangs up.

"I'll see you soon."

* * *

The house is silent when he lets her in, greeting her with a hug and a beaming smile.

"How's Alexis doing?" She asks softly, mindful of Sammy sleeping upstairs.

"She's good. I spoke to Elliot a little while ago and everything was going well."

Castle's grin is so wide it's almost comical, and he leads her into the house towards the living room.

"You let them know I was coming?" She confirms and Castle nods.

"They're going to call when we're able to visit."

The excitement radiates between them, the room practically buzzing.

She can't quite believe it's happening.

The adrenaline fades as she sits down and relaxes though, exhaustion taking its place.

"You didn't sleep on the plane, did you?" Castle asks as she curls up on the couch, unable to deny it.

"Sleep. I'll wake you when they call."

* * *

She wakes to a weight on her chest, opening her eyes to Sammy's bright blue ones staring back at her, sparkling with delight.

"Hi."

She grins, reaching for him as she sits up, smothering him with kisses until he's giggling.

"Hey, kiddo."

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he chants, laughter still bubbling on his lips as she catches as glimpse of Castle across the room, now dressed and ready to go.

_Does that mean… _

"She was born just over an hour ago," Castle says, answering her unspoken question. "You ready to meet her?"

* * *

Sammy is first through the door, catching a glimpse of his mother and making a break for it, slipping his hand from her grasp. Elliot scoops him up within seconds, reminding his son to keep his voice soft, a grin splitting his face in two as he accepts their congratulations.

"My sister!" Sammy exclaims in an _almost_ whisper as they approach Alexis, who holds her daughter in the crook of her arm.

"Yeah, Sammy, your sister," Elliot responds softly, lowering him down beside Alexis.

Sammy is suddenly tentative, peering over at the baby and then looking back to his parents, unsure.

"You can say hi if you want," Alexis encourages, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

He's captivated, the mirror image of Castle, who for once appears utterly speechless.

"Hi."

The single greeting falls from Sammy's lips as he leans closer, eyes wide.

"Hi, my sister."

"Her name is Isabelle," Alexis tells them, her tender gaze meeting Kate's. "Isabelle Katherine."

"You…" shock swallows the rest of her sentence, her heart expanding and making it difficult to breathe.

She can't process it, can't even begin to respond; she just looks between Alexis, Elliot and Isabelle, disbelieving. Alexis' lips quirk, confirming that this is something they decided on a while ago and visibly revelling in her stunned reaction. She moves closer to the bed, squeezing Alexis' hand, utterly overwhelmed.

"Is-bel," Sammy repeats, capturing everyone's attention and allowing her the time to let it sink in, though she's sure it never will.

Castle leans down to brush a kiss to his daughter's head, words of amazement and pride spilling out in hushed tones and Alexis looks up at him, shifting Isabelle into his arms with care. She runs a hand across Sammy's head, smoothing his hair down and pulling him close, praising him for being such a wonderful brother. He settles, content in his mother's embrace, and Alexis turns to Kate.

"I can't believe you're here," she murmurs. "I'm so glad you came."

Kate smiles, tears welling in her eyes.

She's given up on trying to control the emotion that courses through her body, Isabelle _Katherine_ a gift that has her flying, and now watching Castle… The memory of him meeting his grandson in the hospital for the first time almost two years ago stands in stark contrast to this moment, leaving her a complete mess.

"Can I get you anything?" She asks Alexis who she just shakes her head, unable to take her eyes off her father, transfixed by his granddaughter.

"Kate," Castle beckons her closer. "You want to hold her?"

She nods mutely, incapable of much else.

She's so tiny, so seemingly fragile in her arms, a dusting of fair hair atop her head, a few hours old and already so much like Alexis.

"Hey sweet girl," she breathes, almost inaudible. "It's so nice to meet you."

Sammy rises up on his knees beside Alexis as if checking his sister's still there, wondering if it's his turn. She lays Isabelle in Alexis' arms, allowing Alexis and Elliot a moment with their family and falling back beside Castle. He reaches for her hand, offering her a teary smile.

"Glad you came?" He asks jokingly, pulling her closer until their shoulders touch, her hand still entwined in his.

So much has changed since they were last in a hospital room, his presence beside her now proof itself, and despite all of the pain and heartbreak along the way…

"No regrets."

* * *

A/N:

One more chapter to go :)

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	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Rick &amp; Kate**

* * *

It was always going to be a short visit.

They both knew it from the outset, yet they stand in the terminal two days later, stalling unashamedly, the goodbye hovering over them like a raincloud they're both trying to ignore.

Seeing her so unexpectedly has only reminded him how much he misses her when she's gone, and now parting is that much harder. Kate isn't hiding her reluctance to leave either, expertly keeping the conversation alive as security announcements echo in the background.

But eventually the small talk runs out and there's no avoiding it any longer.

"I should let you go," he says, giving in to the inevitable.

He wants desperately to ask her to stay, but reason wins out over his unfailing need for her. It wouldn't be fair of him, not when he can't give her anything more than what they have, so he bites his tongue. He holds her close for longer than he should and then steps back, watching as she passes through security and out of sight.

* * *

It sends him back in time, witnessing Alexis with Isabelle.

The girl so closely resembles her mother as a baby that all he can see is his little girl and how many years have passed.

Everyone is moving forward, and he needs to do the same.

* * *

Even with the distance, his relationship with Kate remains strong as time passes.

She's there as he goes through the process of finding a place of his own, her support constant. She's the voice of reason when fear and anxiety try to convince him that he's not ready for such a drastic change, reading him like a book she knows by heart, always knowing the right thing to say.

He looks at apartments and houses that fit his fairly flexible criteria for months with limited success before he finds a three-bedroom near Alexis and Elliot and falls in love. It's all that he didn't know he was looking for with its open floor plan and large windows, and he calls Kate after his first walkthrough, almost giddy with excitement.

Kate is thrilled for him, mirroring his enthusiasm as he shares every tiny detail of the place he hopes to call home, and it's the encouragement he needs.

She's the one he most wants to share it with, she's the first person he calls when he makes an offer, when it's accepted. She's so proud of him, so happy, and it translates through the phone with undeniable clarity.

He has to paint and decorate and buy furniture, his to-do list never-ending, and he agonises over every little decision, struck by the desire for it to be perfect.

Kate talks him through his indecisiveness, finding solutions where he can see none, and slowly the place becomes his.

* * *

He spends plenty of time at the house before the move, but when he actually leaves Alexis and Elliot's with the last of his possessions, no longer able to consider it home, it feels different.

Isabelle doesn't quite understand what's happening, Sammy flat out refuses to believe it, Elliot is as stoic as ever, and Alexis proud and miserable all at once.

It's a tearful goodbye, and Alexis asks Elliot take the kids to the car as she surveys the place one last time.

"You sure you're okay? You have everything you need?"

Her concern is unnecessary but he lets her fret like the parent she now is, humouring her as she confirms that he'll be capable of surviving without her.

"I'll be fine, Alexis," he promises, feeling oddly calm. "I'll call if I need anything – I'll call even when I don't."

She nods at that, as placated as she's going to get, and he tugs her into a bone-crushing hug.

He wouldn't be here without her, wouldn't be standing in his own home with the ability to start over if it weren't for his daughter, and it makes his throat close up, his voice scratchy as he tries to express his gratitude now.

"I love you, pumpkin."

She smiles, every bit the woman she has become and yet still his little girl.

"Love you too, dad."

* * *

It's quiet.

He doesn't have much experience with quiet, especially not since Isabelle was born, and it's a constant reminder that he's really alone.

He has spent hours discussing the move with Dr Capwell – probably even longer talking about it with Kate – and he knows he's ready for this.

But even when he becomes used to the silence and being on his own, something feels wrong.

The house is perfect. It's everything he imagined it would be, open and spacious and all that he ever wanted, yet he can't escape the emptiness that consumes him. He moves through the rooms, the reason for the void that is an unshakeable hollowness in his chest dawning suddenly.

It's Kate.

There are touches of Kate in everything he sees yet no one beside him.

He reaches for his phone, his hand pausing mid-air.

It's not enough to hear her voice or to see her face on a screen. He needs to actually _see_ her, to be able to reach out and touch her.

He searches for flights to New York, the keystrokes familiar, but when he reaches the final step of the transaction fear doesn't stop him in his tracks. For the first time, the thought of confirming the booking and actually going to New York doesn't make his palms sweat.

It has been over two years since he was a prisoner there, and the time that has passed has muted the memory. The concept of returning no longer paralyses him, it doesn't incite images of Lydia or all that he endured in that place.

It seems almost ridiculous to him now, how many times he closed the webpage and stayed in San Francisco, arrested by fear of a _city_.

Excitement courses through him at the thought of being able to go to New York and conquer the fears that have kept him in California for so long, kept him from her. His belief that he can do it is unwavering, and he doesn't second-guess it.

* * *

...

* * *

Kate steps out of the elevator, her phone buzzing with messages from Alexis, photos of Isabelle and Sammy lighting up the screen and making her smile.

Since her impromptu trip to San Francisco when Isabelle was born the normality and routine of her day-to-day life has been making her antsy, in need of a change, a new challenge, and Alexis is not only aware of it but trying to use it to lure her to the West Coast, the photos of the kids she misses so greatly only one of Alexis' tactics. It's working, too, the reminder of how far away she is from them all making her heart clench.

The '_enjoy your evening_' message concluding the onslaught of images is unusual but she disregards it, replying on autopilot and pushing her phone into her pocket.

She rounds the corner to her apartment, lifting her gaze and stopping abruptly.

She has to be seeing things.

She might recognise those broad shoulders, but there's no way that _Castle_ is standing at her door.

But then he turns around, stunning her with that infuriating smirk and those sparkling blue eyes, erasing her disbelief entirely when he opens his mouth.

"I thought you said the door would be open."

* * *

It takes her more than a few minutes to respond, her mind stuck on the fact that Castle is currently outside her apartment, the teasing smile on his face indicating that he knows exactly what he's doing to her.

"Rick," she breathes, blinking purposefully as if he's going to disappear before her eyes.

She wrenches her feet from the floor, still half frozen in shock, throwing her arms around him.

"How are– What are you doing here?"

They part naturally and she rests her hands on his elbows, reluctant to give up the contact, the tangible evidence that she isn't imagining things, that he's really standing within arm's reach.

His eyes crinkle with that affectionate smile she remembers so well from before, taking her breath away.

God, she's missed him. Seeing him a couple of times a year isn't enough.

"I came to see you."

* * *

She fumbles as she unlocks the door, twisting every few seconds to confirm that he's really beside her.

When she finally succeeds in getting the door open she steps inside, turning towards him.

"Do you want a coffee or something?" She wonders, somehow nervous.

He closes the door, following her towards the kitchen with an easy-going nod.

"Sure."

"You got here okay?"

He looks so calm, even though he always claimed he couldn't be in the city because of its association with Lydia, and it only exacerbates the shock and confusion that has her reeling.

"Yeah," he says, seeing her casual question for what it is.

His gaze is intense, his tone so commanding that even though she's reaching into the cupboard for mugs, her eyes are drawn to him without a moment of consideration.

"No problems."

She swallows thickly, refocusing on the task at hand as it sinks in.

She knew he was doing well – the last time she saw him he was a different man to the one she first flew to San Francisco to visit almost two years ago – but this kind of physical proof, him being here when he always said he couldn't do it… She's stunned.

There are still so many questions swirling in her head, but he's looking at her so intently that the words get stuck on her tongue.

"Alexis," she manages to get out.

"She knows I'm here," he replies, smiling knowingly. "She struggled to keep it to herself, but I wasn't about to disappear without telling her."

She nods, the implications of his statement reminding her of all that is in the past, pulling her from her shock and elation and allowing the words to fall from her mouth.

"What changed?"

For the beautiful surprise that is seeing him now, she doesn't understand.

Why _now_?

She can't think of a reason why his ability to face New York would have changed.

She'd written it off as an impossibility and having him here makes her question all that she thought she knew, leaving her unsteady on her feet.

"I moved into the house, and… It's great. It's exactly what I wanted, except that all I can see is you."

"Castle," she murmurs but he ploughs on, the words tumbling out of his mouth, unstoppable.

"I'm looking at paint colours you suggested, furniture you picked out, and all I can think is that I need to see you. That you should be here with me. That's the vision I apparently had when I bought it, because I can't imagine anything else, and you're not there and why am I so afraid of a city I lived in for most of my life?" He exhales loudly, out of breath, and she takes his hand in an attempt to calm him down, to reorient him.

"Rick," she tries again. "I thought…"

She thought there was a firm boundary on their friendship, a limit to what he could handle without losing himself in the memory of what was done to him, and she was okay with that. Over the last couple of years she has come to accept what they couldn't have and appreciate what they could, but now he's standing before her looking at her like that's somehow changed.

"I know," he whispers. "But it's been years, Kate, and she might still be in my head, but she's barely a flicker now, and I don't want that flicker to control my life. Besides," he pauses, smiling at her so maddeningly when her heart is just about beating out of her chest and she can't breathe. "You are not a flicker. You – you consume me. I can't let it go: the idea of being with you, having more than this. More than living on opposite sides of the country and barely seeing each other. Whether it's here or in San Francisco I don't care, I just need you."

He swallows, gauging her reaction, and her mind is spinning too quickly for her to even form a word.

She hasn't considered a relationship with him in years, not really. She's perfectly content with what they have, but now he's inching towards her and all she can think is that despite ruling out all possibility of them and finding happiness without it, she still wants him.

But he's uncertain, perhaps discouraged by her silence, and his movement falters ever so slightly.

She brushes her fingertips across his jaw in silent assent and he smiles then, closing the distance between them and pressing his lips to hers.

Her response is instinctive and fervent, all rational thought disappearing as she loses herself in the kiss.

When he pulls away he's grinning, a stark contrast to the last time he kissed her, when his lips brushed against her cheek and tears sparked in his eyes.

This time he's laughing, slipping his hand through her hair and kissing her again.

This time, their kiss is an unspoken promise of the future.

* * *

...

* * *

He feels his entire world shift as soon as his lips meet hers.

There have been few moments in his life where he knew nothing would ever be the same again, and the sensation is dizzying.

There's no trace of Lydia, nothing but Kate invading his senses as he kisses her again, completely addicted.

He never thought that he could have this kind of relationship with Kate without his memories of Lydia tainting it, despite Dr Capwell's suggestion that it may just take time.

But when he was able to get on that plane, when he was able to face the immensity of New York and make his way to Kate's apartment without Lydia even entering his mind, suddenly a relationship with Kate felt like a possibility.

From there hope sparked brighter than ever before, clearing the haze caused by fear and allowing him to admit to himself that his love for Kate never faded, that the future they always planned together is still something he desperately desires.

"How long can you stay?" she wonders, her eyes alight with hope, and he's not about to disappoint her.

"As long as you'll have me."

* * *

Their coffee goes cold and Kate suggests dinner, opening her fridge to prove that some things never change.

"How does pizza sound?" She asks on second thought and he grins at her, agreeing easily.

She places the call and pours them each a glass of wine, leading him over to the couch.

It's so normal, so familiar, even though it has been years since he has been with her in this city. They settle in side-by-side, and though there's still so much to say, he wants to savour this.

He's here with Kate and nothing is standing between them.

* * *

...

* * *

He falls asleep on her shoulder before they get through the first half of the movie he insisted he wasn't too tired to watch, the exhaustion of the day clearly catching up with him.

She gets up carefully, laying him down on the couch and disappearing to make up the guest room. For all of the kissing and the obliteration of boundaries that has occurred tonight, they've barely touched on all they have to talk about. She hasn't even put into words her response to his overwhelming declaration, and playing it safe seems like the better option.

She moves the single bag he brought with him into the room and ensures he has all that he might need before approaching the couch to find him still fast asleep, his face mashed against the couch cushions.

She wakes him gently, watching as realisation spreads across his features and letting out a breath of relief when he smiles lazily, still comfortable and relaxed when he takes in his surroundings.

"I fell asleep?"

She nods, unable to hide the adoration she feels towards him as she takes his hands, helping him up and showing him to the guest room. He's still sleepy, following her without question and falling onto the bed, not considering anything other than going back to sleep.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Castle," she murmurs, the corners of her lips lifting into a smile at the thought.

"'morrow."

* * *

She calls Alexis as she cleans up their dishes and gets ready for bed, the phone pressed to her ear as she moves around the apartment.

"Kate."

The excitement in Alexis' voice is unmistakable, and Kate can't help but smile at the sound.

"Should I take the complete lack of communication from you since you got home as a good sign?"

She laughs, unable – unwilling – to deny it.

"Yes. I can't believe you kept it from me," she adds, more impressed than anything.

"It wasn't easy, but I figured it would be a good surprise."

"You were right," she pauses, falling onto the couch with a contented sigh. "I think there's a chance for us, Alexis. I think there's a really good chance."

The obstacles between them now seem insignificant in comparison to all they've overcome, even the distance easily surmountable.

"That's amazing, Kate," Alexis replies, as sincere as she is enthusiastic.

"He's really here," Kate breathes, still in awe.

"I know," Alexis murmurs. "When he told me he was headed to the airport my first instinct was to go with him, but then I remembered… He's not the same person he was we left the city with him all those years ago. He's just dad now – I have nothing to worry about."

Kate hums her agreement, exhaling silently.

He's _Castle_. He's the man she loved before, the man who had the ability to make her laugh and warm her heart within a split second. There's no trace of the man who was – even a year ago – still haunted by what happened to him.

He's Castle and he's _here_.

* * *

...

* * *

He wakes to the smell of breakfast, confused until he opens his eyes and remembers that he's in New York.

With Kate.

The realisation has him pushing the covers away in seconds.

He's really here, the buzz of the city and the unfamiliar room proof of the fact, and when he emerges from what he assumes to be her guest bedroom, he finds Kate standing at the kitchen counter beaming at him, a gesture he can't help but return.

"Morning."

"Sleep well?" She inquires and he nods, rubbing his eyes.

"I did," he responds, taking the coffee she offers him with gratitude.

She's dressed for work – ready to walk out the door – and there's only one plate of food prepared, the other dirty in the sink.

"I was going to wake you," she explains, putting the milk back in the fridge. "I have to get to the precinct, but you'll be okay on your own?"

She looks guilty, ready to blow off work for him, and he reaches for her hand, squeezing it lightly.

"I'll be fine, Kate."

"We're right in the middle of a case, otherwise I'd–"

"Hey," he interrupts her, not interested in apologies that she has no reason to give. He doesn't expect her to drop everything just because he spontaneously decided to get on a plane, but that's what she appears to be contemplating.

"Go to work. I'll see you tonight."

"I'll call when I get a chance," she promises, reaching for her bag. "And I left my spare key on the counter."

"One night and you're already giving me a key to your place? A bit presumptuous, are we, Katherine Beckett?"

They both know they're way past the key exchange, and he delights in the way her face breaks open with joy at his teasing, her smile wide, laughter bubbling on her lips.

"I'll see you later, Castle."

* * *

He spends the morning exploring the city, revelling in the sense of accomplishment that comes with such a simple activity.

He channels it into his writing, returning to Kate's apartment after lunch and curling up on her couch with a notebook. The words almost write themselves, time passing in a blur, then the front door opens and Kate walks in holding grocery bags clutched to her chest.

"How was work?" He wonders, the question only adding to the sensation of domesticity as he takes the groceries from her hands.

"Good," she grins, slipping off her coat and putting her gun away as he starts unloading the food. "We closed the case."

She tells him about her day as they make quick work of the chore, bumping hips and brushing elbows as they move around the kitchen.

"I'm selfish," she admits, adorably shy as she turns to him after putting the last of the groceries in the fridge. "I didn't tell the boys you're here. They'd have wanted to see you tonight, and I want you all to myself."

He grins, grateful, because while he'd love to see Ryan and Esposito, Lanie too, there's time for that. For now he just wants Kate.

"I'm glad," he says, kissing her softly, high on the ability to actually do so. "I want you all to myself, too."

* * *

They cook dinner together, sharing wine and easy conversation, the kitchen alive with laughter and friendly banter.

It's later, once they've eaten and they're relaxing in the living room, her head tucked against his shoulder as they revel in the physical contact, that she gives into the inevitable.

It goes without saying that this is real, that it isn't a short-term thing, or something he had to prove to himself. He wants her by his side for the rest of his life, just as he has for as long as he can remember, and while he was afraid that her feelings might have changed, any doubts he had disappeared the moment he saw the look on her face when he showed up at her door.

But distance remains an issue, even if he's willing to do anything to overcome it.

She twists, orienting her whole body towards him as she takes her time searching for the words, chewing her bottom lip.

"I want more, too," she starts, referencing his earlier declaration, the speech made of adrenaline and desperation for her, and he catches on immediately, his heart an erratic flutter in his chest at hearing her voice her agreement aloud.

He can write from anywhere, and while he'd prefer not to be away from Alexis and Elliot, from his grandchildren, he'd stay in New York for Kate.

"I can move here," he reassures her, repeating the offer so she knows he didn't show up here with unrealistic expectations, unwilling to compromise.

"Rick," she shakes her head, the pure and unbridled love shining in her eyes making it hard for him to breathe.

"I want to go back to San Francisco with you," she says, so certain. "If you want me there."

"I want you there," he says instantly, aware that she was hedging but still affronted that it's even in need of clarification. "I want you."

She grins, faintly relieved before joy completely takes over.

"Wait until you see the house, Kate, you're going to love it. It's perfect – with you it will be perfect."

* * *

...

* * *

It doesn't feel real, the concept of actually moving to San Francisco.

It isn't the first time she's considered it, which is why Alexis hasn't been holding back in her attempts to convince her to join them in California, but she can't quite believe it's really happening.

The draw of being closer to Alexis – and Castle – has always been persuasive, and now with Castle here, wanting to be together, the pull of San Francisco is impossible to resist.

This past year especially it has become clear that everyone else in her life is moving forward while she keeps treading water, her heart caught between two sides of the country.

All of her friends have families of their own, and although her dad is in New York, her family is in San Francisco too. He's teased her about it, leaving the city to be near Alexis and Castle, and she knows he'd support any decision that would make her happy.

And it will make her happy, that much she knows.

Just the thought of it has her whole body buzzing, excited – elated – in a way she hasn't felt in months.

"I'm going to call Alexis," she tells Castle who nods, not questioning her need for privacy when she goes into her bedroom, closing the door partway.

"I said I'd move to San Francisco," she blurts as soon as the call connects, pre-empting any greetings or pleasantries because this is Alexis and they're all but unnecessary, especially in the face of such big news.

"I knew it!" Alexis squeals, both excited and triumphant.

Kate rolls her eyes, listening patiently as Alexis babbles about the move and all that's going to happen – all that's going to change.

"Kate," Alexis stops mid-sentence, suspicious of her silence.

"It's just – it's a big change," she realises, all of the details she and Castle have yet to discuss only exacerbating the anxiety that's creeping up on her.

She's not one to make big decisions without adequate consideration, and this time she just went with her gut – well, her heart.

"It is," Alexis concedes. "But isn't it what you want?"

Yes.

She chuckles inaudibly at Alexis' ability to remind her of what's important with one single sentence.

It's all that she wants – being with Castle. Her heart is leaping out of her chest at the prospect.

"You once told me to follow my heart," Alexis says, nostalgic. "That it was worth the risk."

The memory hits her with the force of a freight train, the words echoing in her head in her own voice, reinforcing that she's made the right decision and eliminating the pesky, irrational fears that were lurking in the back of her mind.

At the time, Alexis had just graduated and was trying to decide between staying in New York and going to San Francisco with Elliot. There had been job opportunities in both cities, but Alexis was uncertain, needing encouragement to commit to moving across the country.

Even when Kate was grieving Castle she'd believed love was worth it – something that he had taught her – and she can't refute it now.

"I'll see you soon, Alexis."

* * *

She emerges from her room and he smiles at her, looking so at home in her apartment, so much like he did all those years ago, in another apartment, another life.

"How's Alexis?"

"She's good," she says, joining him on the couch.

_This_ is what she wants from the day-to-day – him by her side, wherever they might be, whatever they might be doing.

"I think I just made her day."

"Yeah?" The excitement is clear in his tone, matching the child-like glee on his face.

"This is what I want," she tells him, reaching for his hand and intertwining their fingers. "You, me, San Francisco – it will be perfect."

His arms wrap around her and she presses her face to his neck, inhaling deeply and holding him close.

The rest of it doesn't matter: how long it took them to get here, the time they lost along the way.

After all that they've survived, they're here now.

When she pulls back he touches his lips to hers, the sensation still new and yet so familiar.

"I love you," he says and she smiles, brushing another kiss to the corner of his mouth.

There are no qualifications, nothing other than the absolute truth of the sentiment, and she basks in the words, the future they hold.

"I love you, too, Castle."

* * *

The End.

* * *

A/N:

To everyone who has read, followed, reviewed and supported this story – thank you. I honestly never expected such a response, and I truly appreciate your kind words, patience, encouragement and support.

Lord of Kavaka, thank you so very much for designing the cover art.

Nic, thank you for the chapters you betaed for me, you made this story infinitely better.

I do plan to write a sequel of sorts to _Flashlight_, which hopefully will happen in the near future.

...

_**ETA: **The very talented ColieMacKenzie has written an M-rated companion to this story which takes place after "Flashlight" and before the sequel that is still forthcoming__. It is called "All The Light We See" and can be found on her profile, or here: fanfiction dot net /s/11936701/1/. You should absolutely go read it (spoiler alert: it's AMAZING)._

...

Twitter: l03l_

Tumblr: l03l


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